The French Connection
by X-Shadow.of.Darkness-X
Summary: Harry Potter is a bodyguard, hired to protect the Delacour family after a vicious assault on their home. As he investigates the attack, Harry discovers just how far the plot against the Delacour family extends. For everything is not as it seems in France... Revised and updated version of a former story of the same name. One story in several volumes.
1. VOLUME ONE - Prologue

**The French Connection**

**A/N:**** This is the updated version of this story. I have gone through and corrected all spelling and grammar mistakes as far as I can find, and have changed the ending to one that makes a little more sense.**

**This fic was inspired by "Deprived" by The Crimson Lord. If you haven't read it, go and check it out.**

**PART ONE - THE BODYGUARD**

**~Prologue~**

"You made the right decision to call upon my services."

"And why is that?"

"I can protect you from the best in the business."

"That's a bold claim from one so young."

"Are you doubting my abilities?"

Gregoire Delacour shrank back under the boy's gaze, emerald green eyes burning into his. The boy had an air about him of lethality. Gregoire could see why he came so highly recommended; the boy exuded dangerousness. Just what he needed.

"N-not at all..."

"Because the way I see it," the boy continued, cutting across Gregoire. "the people who attacked your family were not doing it of their own free will. They were contracted, in much the same way that you are trying to buy my services now. But if I refuse the contract, I could very easily be contracted to attack you next. And unlike the last group, I would not fail. Because I never fail."

Gregoire tried hard to avoid the boy's piercing gaze.

"You must understand my concerns. You are little more than a child. What makes you so sure you can protect my family from the best?"

The boy smirked slightly, the closest he had come to a smile since he had entered the room.

"Because I am the best."

There was no emotion, no doubt, no anything in his voice. He said it as though it was a statement of fact. Which, Gregoire thought, it probably was.

"I see. So, how much are you asking for, Monsieur...?"

"Collard. My normal fee is two thousand Galleons, but as I will be protecting your family, rather than an individual, my price is five thousand Galleons. Take it or leave it."

"Four thousand."

"Have a pleasant day, Monsieur Delacour."

"No, wait!" Gregoire said frantically, as the boy rose to leave. Collard paused. Gregoire sighed heavily. "Fine. Five thousand."

Collard was silent for a moment. "We have an agreement." He stuck his hand out toward Gregoire, who clasped it briefly, wanting to avoid contact as much as possible with the teenager.

"Thank you." He produced a sheet of parchment from amidst the stack on his desk. "This is my address. When you arrive, knock three times and speak the phrase: The world is ever-changing. Someone will open the door to you."

Collard's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Is a pass phrase really necessary?"

"Under the circumstances, I'm afraid so." Gregoire rubbed his chin. "My wife and daughters will be at the manor to greet you. Feel free to make yourself at home. One of them will lead you to your room.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a lot of work to be getting on with. I shall see you tonight at the manor."

Collard nodded and rose to his feet. He straightened his robes and made his way toward the door. Just as he reached for the handle, he felt a presence touch the edges of his Occlumency barriers. Immediately, he shot a stab at the tendril and heard a gasp of pain come from the French Minister for Magic.

"You would be wise, Monsieur Delacour, not to do that again."

Gregoire nodded feverishly as he rubbed against his temples.

"O-of course, my apologies."

The bodyguard turned and strode out of the office without another word, closing the door behind him with a slight snap.

Gregoire sighed. _It's for the best._

Out in the hallway, Harry Potter smiled to himself. This contract was going to be interesting.


	2. VOLUME ONE - Delacour Manor

**~Chapter One – Delacour Manor~**

The Delacour Manor occupied a vast area of land a few miles north of Cannes. Hidden from Muggle view by various wards, the manor was more of a fort than a house. The walls were made from huge blocks of hewed stone, and huge wrought-iron gates protected the only entrance to the grounds.

The grounds themselves were huge, a great expanse of lush green grass, bordered on three sides by a thick forest. Every now and then, a small animal would flit across the grass and disappear amidst the trees.

_A man of great fortune, _Harry thought, as he gazed around the exterior of the Minister's property, spinning his wand between his fingers. The long, black travelling cloak he wore lightly brushed the path as he walked, the evening light reflecting off the silvery runes embroidered into the fabric, looking like stars twinkling against the inky backdrop of the night sky. The hood was up, which cast most of his face in shadow. Only his mouth was visible, as well as a long, white scar down his left cheek. His emerald green eyes were just visible beneath the hem of the hood, and a few errant strands of jet-black hair hung loosely around his shoulders.

Harry cast another long look over the grounds as he approached the great oak front doors. Satisfied he had not been followed, he flicked his wrist and his wand shot back into its holster on his right forearm. He raised his hand and rapped three times on the door.

"The world is ever-changing."

-x-x-x-x-x-

Apolline Delacour paced nervously through the foyer of the manor, awaiting the arrival of the bodyguard Gregoire had hired. She had not been pleased with the idea, but the latest attack had left them with little choice. If anything, the bodyguard may stop Fleur and Gabrielle coming to harm at least.

She jumped at a sudden rapping on the door. She counted. One. Two. Three. Silence. Then, a voice rang out, muffled slightly by the oak doors.

"The world is ever-changing."

Apolline let out a sigh of relief. Raising a shaking hand, she grasped the door handle and pulled the door open.

"Madame Delacour, I presume?"

-x-x-x-x-x-

The door swung back to reveal a very attractive woman who seemed to be in her early forties. She wore a pale green evening dress and her silvery blonde hair was twisted up into an elegant knot on top of her head. Harry could sense the residual magic of the Veela aura lightly touching his Occlumency barriers.

"Madame Delacour, I presume?" Harry asked, discreetly looking her over, attempting to gauge her personality from the way she held herself.

The woman nodded.

"_Oui_. You must be the bodyguard my husband hired."

Harry nodded.

"I am."

"Please, come in."

Madame Delacour stepped back, allowing Harry to cross the threshold. As he did so, the air seemed to shimmer slightly. _Wards_, he thought. _Unwise to have them this close to the property_.

Harry swept his eyes around the foyer. In front of him, two staircases wound their way up to the mezzanine level, framing a set of double doors. Hallways on either side led to other rooms, presumably a sitting room or bathroom. The room was generously lit by a magnificent chandelier, floating unsupported about fifteen feet in the air. Statues and paintings dominated the walls, and the floor was tiled with marble. Unlike many houses Harry had been in before, however, the decoration of the Delacour's manor was not presumptuous; it seemed Gregoire had more sense than money, a trait that was practically non-existent among the rich in wizarding Britain.

Apolline studied the boy as he lowered his hood. His long hair was pulled up into a rough ponytail at the back of his head, a few loose strands framing his face. A long, white scar stretched from the corner of his left eye to the corner of his mouth, obviously the souvenir of a past fight. And his eyes... Apolline shuddered as she looked into his eyes. They were emerald green, and seemed to hold a vast amount of knowledge and pain. But that was not what unsettled her; it was the complete lack of emotion. The boy seemed to absorb everything with a look of cool detachment.

"I must admit, I was expecting someone a little...older." Apolline confessed, trying not to flinch as the boy looked at her.

"Appearances can be deceiving." the boy said. He held out his hand. "Collard, at your service."

Apolline tentatively shook the boy's hand.

"That's not your real name, is it?"

"No."

"Are you going to tell me your real name?"

"No."

"May I ask why?"

"Names are powerful things, Madame." Harry said. "Also, I feel it best not to get to know my clients on a personal level. It makes my job a lot easier."

Apolline nodded slowly.

"I see. Well, welcome to Delacour Manor, Monsieur Collard. If you follow me, I will give you a quick tour and show you to your room."

Harry nodded.

"Lead the way."

-x-x-x-x-x-

Harry had thought the Delacour manor was big when he had first seen it, but the exterior hardly did the inside justice. There were more rooms than Harry could have ever thought of, all decorated in the same basic yet lavish way of the foyer. Two hours into the tour, Harry had come to the decision that there were several Undetectable Extension Charms in place.

His personal quarters were larger than any he had stayed in before. The walls were a delicate cream colour, two of which were concealed by bookshelves holding volumes on every topic imaginable. A large four-poster bed dominated the back wall and a small desk was situated next to a large window that afforded a panoramic view of the grounds.

As soon as Apolline departed, Harry pulled his storage chest out of his pocket, placed it at the foot of the bed and reversed the Shrinking Spell. Within seconds, a full size chest lay in front of him. Smiling in satisfaction, he checked the various security spells were still in effect and the wards had not been damaged. Content, he pulled his cloak from his shoulders, placing it on a small hook by the door. He smoothed out the creases in his robes, today a dark blue, and pulled the door open, heading down to one of the dining rooms.

"Ah, Collard! Please, come in, take a seat!"

Gregoire stood as Harry pulled the dining room door open, gesturing toward a chair next to a girl who seemed to be in her late teens. Harry nodded and lowered himself into the seat.

"You have, of course, met my wife, Apolline," Gregoire continued. Harry passed no comment, so Gregoire carried on. "And these are my daughters, Fleur," he gestured at the girl sat next to Harry, who gave a small smile. "and Gabrielle." The younger girl waved at him. Harry said nothing, choosing instead to study the two girls.

Fleur had the same aura about her as her mother, if not slightly more diluted. Her silvery blonde hair cascaded around her shoulders in waves, framing her face. Her posture was typical of someone who had been raised in wealth and had spent years having proper manners drilled into her. Gabrielle seemed to be a miniature version of Fleur, however, her posture was a lot less relaxed than her sister's. By Harry's estimation, she would be around ten or eleven.

Harry suddenly realised he had been looking at them for a while without speaking. He inclined his head to the younger Delacours.

"It is a pleasure."

"I must say, I didn't expect someone such as you to have such manners." Gregoire said. Harry turned his attention to him.

"Someone like me?"

Gregoire recoiled slightly under Harry's piercing gaze as a house elf walked in, levitating plates in front of her.

"I just meant... most mercenaries..."

"Let me make something perfectly clear, Monsieur Delacour," Harry said. "I am not a mercenary. I am an assassin and bodyguard."

"What's the difference?" Fleur asked. Harry smiled slightly.

"I'm more precise."

Silence hung in the air for a moment. Finally, Gregoire cleared his throat.

"Well, tuck in."

Harry picked up his knife and fork, spearing a piece of chicken on the end.

"You'll have to excuse our stresses," Gregoire said to Harry. "Gabrielle is due to start at Beauxbatons Academy of Magic in two weeks."

Harry paused, his fork halfway to his mouth.

"You did not mention this before."

"I hardly felt it necessary at the time."

"How, then, do you propose I protect your family, if your daughter is away from home?"

Gregoire fidgeted.

"I must admit, it did not occur to me."

Harry raised his hand.

"I will speak with one of my contacts. He deals in magical artefacts. I'm sure he will have something that will help your daughter."

Gregoire seemed to visibly relax.

"_Merci_, Collard."

"It is part of my contract."

They ate in silence for a few moments. Finally, Fleur spoke up.

"So, tell us about yourself, Monsieur Collard."

"I hardly think that appropriate."

"May I ask why?"

Harry sighed lightly, placing his knife and fork down on his plate.

"In my line of work, we can ill afford to become attached to people. It is a dangerous world I live in. No attachments means no negative emotional responses when people don't return from contracts. It is also a self-imposed rule. It ensures I have no loyalties, and therefore, no conflicts of interest."

"You must be loyal to someone."

"I am loyal to the highest bidder."

"And is my father the highest bidder?"

"Would I be here if he wasn't?"

Fleur didn't respond.

"I must apologise..." Gregoire began.

"For what?" Harry asked, cutting across the Minister. "After all, curiosity is only human nature."

The rest of the meal passed in near silence. When the pudding appeared, the family seemed to relax more. Gabrielle started talking about Beauxbatons, to which Harry listened intently, though the information the young girl gave was rather unhelpful from a defensive point of view. Fleur and Gregoire struck up a conversation about some department within the French Ministry that Collard had little interest in.

As soon as the pudding was cleared, Collard rose to his feet.

"If you will excuse me, I must contact an associate."

"Of course, of course." Gregoire said, smiling. "Breakfast will be served at 9am."

Harry bowed his head.

"Very well." He nodded at Fleur and Gabrielle. "A pleasure to meet you."

The girls smiled and nodded back. Harry spun on his heel and exited the dining room. Winding his way through the darkened halls, he pushed open his bedroom door. Sealing and locking it, he strode over to his chest. Bypassing the various safeguards around it, he reached in and pulled out an ornate mirror. Holding it up to his face, he wiped the glass.

"Mouse."

The still surface of the mirror shimmered, before being replaced by the image of a rather seedy looking man, with long, lank hair and several week's worth of stubble on his chin.

"Collard! It is a pleasure to hear from you again! I thought we'd lost you in that business in Scandinavia."

Harry smiled.

"Not quite, though the vampires weren't too agreeable to negotiation."

Mouse sighed and shook his head.

"Such is their way. But I'm sure you didn't call me for a good ol' chin-wag. What can I do you for?"

"I need some Distress Rings. Four to be exact. Like the ones you gave me during the Petrovsky debacle."

"I would hardly call that a debacle, Collard," Mouse chuckled. "but why four?"

"I am guarding a family."

Mouse laughed.

"I see. Well, I'll have to have a rummage around, but I should be able to get them to you by tomorrow morning. I assume you still have the Transport Box?" Harry nodded. "Excellent! Let me know if you need anything else."

"I will. And remember, Mouse, discretion is a must."

"Naturally, naturally." the man wheezed.

"Thank you."

Severing the connection, Harry replaced the mirror back into his chest. He walked over to one of the bookshelves, scanning them for a tome that might interest him. Settling on a thick tome on the history of Beauxbatons Academy, he settled himself on the bed, propping him self up on the headboard. He waved his hand, and the canopy illuminated itself with a soft light. Shifting his body slightly, Harry opened the book and allowed himself to be immersed in the contents.


	3. VOLUME ONE - Victory Lies in Preparation

**~Chapter Two – Victory Lies in Preparation~**

Harry awoke early the next morning. The room was darkened by the curtains obscuring the window, blocking out the early morning light. Stretching his arms, Harry rolled out of bed and parted the curtains with a wave of his hand. Pale light streamed through the window, illuminating the large room. Stretching again, Harry headed into the bathroom to wash.

Ten minutes later, Harry exited the bathroom, dressed in robes of deep crimson. He picked up his wrist holster and slid it onto his wrist, checking the release mechanism. Satisfied, he Summoned his watch and checked the time.

_5:57am._

Assuming it would be far too early to head downstairs, he picked up the book he had started reading that night and settled himself by the window.

Two hours later, Harry placed the book down again. Striding over to the window, he looked out over the grounds. The pale blue French sky stretched as far as the eye could see, the sun blazing over the landscape. Harry was interested in none of that, however. He roamed his eyes over the grounds, looking for potential threats, then walked across the room and opened his trunk. Reaching in, he pulled out a small grey box. He flicked his wrist, releasing his wand and tapped the lid, muttering under his breath. There was a click and the lid swung back on invisible hinges. Harry reholstered his wand and peered into the box.

Lying at the bottom of the box were four rings. Simple gold bands with a stone embedded in the top. Tipping them out into his palm, Harry smiled slightly.

"My thanks, Mouse."

He closed the box and replaced it in his trunk, reapplying the various security spells. Placing the rings in one of the many hidden pockets of his robes, Harry stood and walked over to the bedroom door, pulling it open.

The door swung back to reveal Fleur, her hand raised, ready to knock. She jumped and hastily dropped her hand.

"Oh! Monsieur Collard!"

Harry looked at her.

"Yes?"

Fleur looked slightly embarrassed at her reaction.

"Papa says breakfast is ready, if you wish to join us."

Harry nodded, raising his hand.

"Lead the way."

He walked alongside Fleur through the long, winding hallways of the manor silently. He could sense Fleur wanted to speak, but remained silent, not wishing to be the first to breach the silence.

Finally, Fleur spoke up.

"Be straight with me, Collard. Why did my father hire you?"

"Because your family is in danger."

"I hardly think so. Those attackers barely got near us."

Harry laughed, though there was no emotion in it. It was just that: a laugh.

"Keep telling yourself that."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You seemed like a smart girl; think it through. If those people got nowhere near you, why, then, did your father see fit to hire a very expensive bodyguard?"

Fleur gaped, struggling for words.

"I – I don't - "

"My point exactly."

They had reached the dining room. Harry moved forward and opened the door, holding it ajar, motioning for Fleur to go through first. Closing the door behind him, he made his way to the seat he had sat in the night before.

The rest of the Delacour family were already seated. Gregoire sat at the head of the table, his wife to his left and Gabrielle to his right.

"Good morning, Collard!" Gregoire said heartily.

"Good morning."

Harry piled food onto his plate and began to eat. Gregoire and Apolline exchanged looks with each other.

"Tomorrow, Monsieur Collard, we will be going shopping for Gabrielle's school things."

"I hardly think so."

"Excuse me?" Gregoire's face remained pleasant, but Harry could just detect a current of anger and surprise running just beneath the surface. Clearly, the man was not used to being questioned.

"You really wish to expose yourself to possible attackers?" Harry asked, meeting Gregoire's gaze.

"We can't stay holed up in the house! The magical community of France looks to me for leadership, a fine example it would set if their Minister for Magic was seen as little more than a frightened rabbit, cowering in his hole!"

Harry's face remained impassive.

"Surely, Fleur has old uniform?"

"Well, yes, but..."

"There you go, then." Harry said. "No need to expose yourself to any threat."

"Now listen here, Collard," Gregoire said angrily, rising from his chair. "I will not be told what to do in my own house by a mere boy! I am your employer, and I say we are going to go!"

Harry stayed seated, a look of calm indifference on his face.

"Very well." He rose to his feet and headed to the door.

"Just where do you think you're going?"

Harry turned his head.

"To improve your wards."

"To improve my – They don't need improving!" Gregoire spluttered.

"They are mediocre at best."

"And how can you possibly know that?"

"I noticed them."

Gregoire blanched.

"_I_ drew those wards!"

Harry just stared at him, that infuriating, emotionless, expressionless stare.

"It's just as well I'm here then, isn't it?"

He walked out of the door, the tail of his robes swishing out of sight, leaving Gregoire seething.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Several hours later, when she felt that Collard had had enough time to cool off, Fleur cautiously exited the Manor, looking around for their bodyguard. The sun was beating down heavily, making the air thick with heat.

Collard was several feet away, draped in his long, black cloak, crouched down over a large stone, daubing elegant symbols onto it in a silvery paint-like substance. Fleur approached cautiously, though if Collard was aware of her presence, he didn't show it. Once she was close enough, she knelt down next to him. His hair hung forward, almost completely obscuring his face from view.

"Aren't you hot?"

"It's enchanted." Collard said, not looking up, his attention focussed entirely on the stone. "It detects the ambient temperature of the environment and adjusts it's heat retention accordingly."

Fleur nodded, watching as Collard drew another strange symbol on the stone.

"What are you doing?"

"Creating a stronger ward net. Your father's net had many holes as well as structural weaknesses within it."

"How does it work?"

"The runes are painted onto the stone and then imbued with magic. The way they connect to each other depends on the placement of each rune on the stones."

Fleur nodded again, feeling slightly foolish asking so many questions. Part of her now wished that she had taken Runes as a study option while at Beauxbatons. She felt like she was pestering the boy, though he didn't seemed irritated. She pointed at one of the runes.

"What does that one do?"

"It strengthens the power of the other runes."

"And this one?"

"Protects against Dark curses."

Fleur gazed at the runes, lost in thought. Collard paid her no mind, but continued to paint the runes. Several moments of silence passed between them. Finally, Fleur spoke up again.

"My father doesn't mean to be so ill-tempered, you know."

"I'm sure."

"It's just he's pretty on edge about everything. We all are."

"Understandable."

Fleur forced herself not to sigh at Collard's obvious lack of enthusiasm for conversation.

"Surely you could try to at least be civil with him?"

"I suppose so."

"Thank you."

Silence.

"Mother says lunch is almost ready, if you would care to join us?"

Collard finished the rune with a flourish and stood, looking at her properly for the first time. In the bright light of the sun, the scar on his cheek was barely visible.

"Thank you."

He extended his hand to her and pulled her to her feet. She lightly brushed her dress off and led him back into the manor.

-x-x-x-x-x-

The rest of the family was already seated around the table when Harry and Fleur entered. Gregoire glanced at Harry as he seated himself, but made no comment.

"I feel I may have overstepped my boundaries earlier." Harry said, taking a sandwich from a large platter. "It was not my place to tell you what you can and cannot do."

"Thank you, Monsieur." Gregoire said stiffly, not looking at Harry.

"But you must realise that my primary purpose for being here is ensuring the safety of your family." Harry continued. "I cannot in good conscience allow you to simply wander out in the public where you are open to all manner of ill fortune and malicious intents." He put his hand into his pocket and withdrew the rings he had received earlier. "These are Distress Rings. If you are ever in trouble, you need simply to press the stone with your thumb. They are all linked to mine. I will know and will be with you in a matter of seconds. You do not have to wear them, but it is your life you are betting with if you are captured. I only ask that Gabrielle wear hers, if she is to attend Beauxbatons." He picked up the rings again and passed them around the table.

Fleur looked down at the ring she had been given. It was a simple gold band, set with a black stone. Looking closer, she could see the Delacour family crest was embossed on the stone.

"This is the seal of the Delacour family." she said. Harry nodded.

"They are enchanted to look like family rings. It gives a reason for a sudden addition of jewellery."

Fleur slipped the ring onto her finger and watched as it shrank to fit her finger. Apolline and Gregoire exchanged looks.

"Thank you again, Collard." Apolline said, glancing sideways at her husband. Gregoire nodded.

"Indeed, thank you."

Harry nodded and resumed eating.

"So, how are the improvements on the ward net coming?" Gregoire asked.

"I thought you said that it didn't need improving?" Harry asked. Gregoire shifted uncomfortably.

"I must admit, it was my own pride that compelled me to speak such words this morning. I was wrong to do so."

Harry nodded.

"Thank you, Monsieur. It takes a great man to admit to his own failings." Gregoire shifted in his seat again. "As you asked, I found several holes in the net, as well as many structural weaknesses. That is not to say it was badly crafted, but it could have been easily circumvented. I have started to patch the holes as well as reinforce the overall structure. I will replace the rest over the next week."

"And we'll be safe after?"

"You'll be safer." Harry said, helping himself to another sandwich. "No ward net is impenetrable. But it will take time to break through it, time enough to either deal with the intruders, or, if the threat is sufficient enough, to evacuate your family."

"And the shopping trip next week?"

"I will accompany you, and follow at a discreet distance. It will be easier to deal with any would-be threats."

Gregoire nodded.

"Thank you, Collard."

Harry shrugged.

"That's my job."


	4. VOLUME ONE - The Kidnapping

**~Chapter Three – The Kidnapping~**

The final few weeks of summer passed with little incident. The shopping trip for Gabrielle's school supplies had thankfully been free of concern, for which Harry was grateful. He spent the remainder of the summer improving the defenses around the Delacour manor. The cessation of attacks had originally worried the Delacour patriarch, but after a while, the family had settled into a comfortable routine.

The morning of September 1st was a blur of activity within the manor. Apolline hurried around the manor, collecting anything that Gabrielle had forgotten to pack. Fleur spent much of the morning explaining to Gabrielle what to expect at the school. Harry Wove an intricate array of spells and wards around Gabrielle's possessions and Gregoire spent much of the morning with his head in the fireplace arranging transport to and from the school.

Before they knew it, they were on their way to Cannes. Gregoire had managed to procure transport in the form of ordinary-looking cars. Harry rode with Gregoire and Fleur, while Apolline and Gabrielle rode in the other car with Gabrielle's trunk.

"I have a bad feeling about this, Monsieur." Harry said as they approached the entrance to the Beauxbatons grounds. Gregoire glanced at him.

"What?"

"Your family has not been in more danger than they are now." Gregoire gave Harry a questioning look. "We have been lucky this summer. But this is different. People know Gabrielle will be attending Beauxbatons this year. This puts you in a vulnerable situation. Keep an eye out for any unusual activity."

"Isn't that supposed to be your job?" Fleur asked. Harry looked at her.

"I am only one person."

The tone of his voice indicated the conversation was over. Fleur rubbed absentmindedly at the ring on her finger as she looked at the Beauxbatons castle growing nearer. The sooner the people behind the attacks were caught, the better.

-x-x-x-x-x-

From the shadows by the gates, five men watched the cars bearing the Delacour family pull to a stop. They watched as the family piled out, heaving a large trunk out of the boot of one of the cars.

The leader cast his gaze around, taking in their surroundings. The group of people they were focussing on were the only people present. There was very little natural cover, and nowhere to run to that didn't leave the family completely exposed.

_Perfect._

He was just about to signal his men to attack when his gaze fell on the man, no, _boy_, that had just rounded the lead car. He was clad in a long, black cloak and was spinning his wand deftly between his fingers. His gaze was sweeping across the landscape, emerald green eyes searching out potential threats. Instinctively, the man retreated further into the shadows. There was something about the boy that made him think twice about his orders.

"Boss?" one of his team asked quietly. The man shushed him quickly.

"Not yet. Wait till they've left."

The group watched as the family exchanged goodbyes and the younger girl strode through the gates, dragging her trunk up toward the castle. The family watched her go before piling into the lead car. He waited until they had disappeared before turning to his men.

"Grab the girl."

-x-x-x-x-x-

Gabrielle gazed up at Beauxbatons castle in wonder as she dragged her trunk up the smooth stone path. She had listened for hours as Fleur described it, but to actually see it was another thing entirely. She allowed herself to stare at the castle, drinking in every breathtaking detail. The tall parapets, the lush green lawns, the plants that decorated the front doors in the distance.

She was so entranced by the castle that she didn't notice the men crowding around her until she was almost completely boxed in. She ground to a halt as a man stepped out in front of her.

Good morning, Mademoiselle Delacour."

He reached out and grabbed her wrist. She tried to struggle, but his grip was too strong. She felt a tugging behind her navel, and the castle disappeared.

-x-x-x-x-x-

The car was quiet on the journey back to the manor. Harry sat between Fleur and Apolline in the back while Gregoire rode shotgun. He could feel Fleur fidgeting slightly next to him.

"Another public outing without incident." Gregoire remarked casually from the front passenger seat. "I'm starting to wonder if whoever was behind the attack has given up."

Harry shook his head.

"I highly doubt it. If it was me, I would bide my time, make you sweat, then strike when you least expect it."

Fleur looked at him, an unreadable expression on her face.

"you seem to have given it quite some thought."

"If I am to protect you, I must consider all forms of attack."

Fleur didn't answer. Harry allowed himself a small smile. _Twice in one day._

He gave a start as he felt his ring heat up. Twisting his hand, he could see the stone pulsating with an eerie light.

"You spoke too soon, Monsieur Delacour." He drew his wand and tapped the stone.

Gregoire twisted sharply in his seat.

"What do you..." But Harry had disappeared.

-x-x-x-x-x-

He reappeared in a dark room. Slipping into the shadows, he quickly surveyed the scene that greeted him.

The room was dimly lit by a few sparse torches burning low in their brackets. In the centre of the room was Gabrielle, gagged and tied to a chair, her robes ripped and stained, her hair caked with a mixture of muck and blood. Several gashes adorned her left cheek. She was sobbing quietly, tears streaming down her face. Surrounding the chair were five men dressed in dark robes, all with their wands out. The man closest to the chair, whom Harry presumed was the leader was clutching a wicked-looking knife. He leaned down close to the terrified young girl.

"Crying won't help you. No-one is coming to save you, not your father, not the authorities, anyone. We have all the time in the world to decide your fate. For now, though, I'm sure these fine men will find plenty to do with you."

Gabrielle let out a frightened squeak as one of the men started toward her, a sick gleam in his eyes as his hand stretched out toward the youngest Delacour's thighs.

"Not another move." Harry said, stepping out of the shadows into the dim light. The men spun around at the sound of his voice.

"Well, well, look what we have here." one of the men said, a grin forming on his face.

"Quiet! He was with them just now." the leader said. He turned his attention to Harry. "How did you get here?"

"Not important." Harry said calmly. He nodded at Gabrielle. "I suggest you release her."

The men all laughed.

"Not gonna happen, kid."

Harry sighed as he silently cast a Shield Charm around Gabrielle. If this went sideways, she had to be kept safe. The men seemed more concerned with Harry, which suited him perfectly. He stood his ground as the leader raised his wand.

"_Stupefy_!"

Harry sighed again as he silently cast another Shield Charm, this time around his hand. As the jet of light came closer and closer, he lazily reached up and snatched the spell out of the air, trapping it in his hand. Ignoring the looks of shock and fear on the faces of the assailants, he looked down at the spell in his hand, which was thrumming with energy.

"A Stunner? Really?" He raised his hand and released the spell. It impacted against the man sanding n the far left, sending him flying into the far wall. This seemed to shake the men out of their shock, as they all drew their wands and advanced toward Harry. Harry smiled slightly. He flicked his wrist, releasing his wand from its holster, and flew into action.

A Killing Curse quickly found its mark as one of the men dropped like a marionette that had had its strings cut. Another man let out a scream as his neck was rent open with a Severing Charm. Harry allowed a murderous, sadistic grin to cross his face. This was where he belonged, in battle, the screams of the dying in the air, brought into his existence by his hand. Energy rushed through his body as he fired curse after curse. Ever since he had discovered how to control his magic, the art of klling had come easily. He allowed the pain of his life to fill him, fuelling his spells. His wand whipped through the air, deflecting incoming spells, spinning to deflect others with his cloak, the runes glowing brilliantly in the gloom.

Gabrielle let out a muffled scream as a head exploded a mere three feet from her. With a flourish, Harry disarmed the man wielding the knife. Firing off another two curses, he felt a small surge of satisfaction as he heard the man's legs snap. The man let out a scream of pain as he collapsed to the floor. Harry fired another Killing Curse across the room, which struck the man who had been the recipient of the first Stunner. He collapsed in a heap. Striding forward, sadistic grin still plastered on his face, Harry looked down at the leader, pointing his wand between his eyes.

The man was breathing heavily, clutching at his now useless legs. He looked up as Harry approached, and Harry noticed with grim satisfaction the look of abject terror now spreading across the man's face.

"Who sent you?" Harry asked.

"I ain't telling you shit." the man replied, though he seemed to be fighting a losing battle with his willpower. Harry sighed dramatically.

"A shame. There's really no reason to let you live if you have no information." His grip tightened on his wand.

"No, wait!" the man cried out, tears of pain and fear pooling in the corners of his eyes. "We work for an agency. We don't know who hired us. We only have a client number. Here." He reached into his breast pocket and produced a sheet of folded parchment. Harry clicked his fingers and the parchment sailed into his outstretched hand. Pocketing it for inspection later, he made his way around the man to Gabrielle. Bending slightly, he looked into her eyes. She was terrified, obviously, but apart from the cuts on her face, she didn't seem to have been harmed in any way. Pulling the gag away from her mouth and untying the bindings, he slowly helped her to her feet.

"Thank you, Collard." she said weakly. Harry shook his head.

"I should have been here sooner, Gabrielle, I'm sorry." He gave her another appraising look. "Did they hurt you?"

Gabrielle shook her head. Harry reached down and took her hand. Raising it, he hovered his wand over the ring.

"I'm going to send you back to your parents. Don't say anything until I'm back, do you understand?"

She nodded. Harry tapped the stone with his wand, and Gabrielle disappeared in a flash of light. Turning back to the man lying on the cold, damp floor, Harry pointed his wand back at him.

"You're going to let me go, right?" the man said, a hopeful note in his voice. Harry laughed sourly.

"I don't think so. This is only the beginning."

He cast a Cushioning Charm at the man's head. The look of confusion on the man's face quickly morphed into one of horror as the air around his head started to compress, slowly starting to suffocate him. Harry watched for a few moments before spinning on his heel and striding out of the room.


	5. VOLUME ONE - A False Sense of Security

**~Chapter Four – A False Sense of Security~**

When Harry returned to the manor, he found the family already there, crowded in the living room. Gregoire was seething, Apolline was trembling, her body wracked by quiet sobs and Fleur was sat simply staring into space. Gabrielle was sat alone, surrounded by Healers and mediwizards, still sobbing slightly. As Harry entered, Gregoire surged to his feet.

"What the hell happened, Collard?"

Harry met his gaze evenly.

"I will discuss this when they have left." he said, nodding toward the group surrounding the youngest Delacour. Gregoire nodded jerkily before sitting back down next to his wife. Harry strode across the room and seated himself in the chair adjacent to Fleur's. They sat in silence until the mediwizards had finished their evaluation.

"Your daughter seems to be perfectly fine, Monsieur Delacour. Other than the obvious signs of injury, the cuts and what have you, as well as the shock of the event, we can find nothing else of note to be a cause for concern."

Gregoire let out a breath.

"Thank you." The wizards nodded. Lowering his voice, the French Minister leaned toward the head Healer. "I would appreciate your discretion in this matter. I do not want this to be public knowledge. Am I understood?"

"Absolutely, Monsieur."

The family sat in silence as the group filed out. Harry waited until he heard the sound of the front door closing before speaking.

"Fleur, please accompany your sister to her room. She should rest."

Fleur gave a look of indignation.

"I hardly think she needs to be escorted to..."

"That was not a request."

Fleur opened her mouth to argue, but Gregoire cut across her.

"Do as he says, Fleur."

Huffing in outrage, Fleur got to her feet and motioned for her sister to follow her. As soon as the door closed behind them Harry pulled his wand out. Pointing it at the door, Harry muttered a couple of spells before pocketing his wand again.

"Privacy Charms." The Delacour's said nothing, choosing to simply nod. Harry took a breath.

"It would be unwise for Gabrielle to return to Beauxbatons."

"I agree completely."

Harry looked at the Minister with barely concealed shock.

"I must admit, I was prepared to argue long into the night."

Gregoire shook his head, his eyes taking on the same distant quality that Harry had seen in his daughter's eyes. He seemed to have withered and deflated in the short time time the Healers had left, leaving him a shell of his former self.

"No. I was foolish to believe that the threat had passed. I should have paid attention to you when you first arrived. For that, I apologise."

Harry nodded.

"Thank you." There was a slight pause. "You asked what happened. Are you sure you want to know?" The two people opposite him nodded. Harry sighed. "Your daughter was taken, to where, I do not know. It was not somewhere I would recognise. They had bound and gagged her. The cuts to her face are courtesy of a knife. They should heal soon enough." Harry paused again to observe the reactions of the Delacours. Gregoire's jaw was set, a fire burning in his eyes. Apolline had her knuckles pressed against her mouth, silent tears once again streaming down her face.

"What happened to them? Gabrielle didn't say..."

"I killed them." Harry said simply. Apolline hiccoughed, staring at Harry with trepidation and a hint of fear at the calm tone he used to deliver the news, as though he had simply invited the kidnappers out for tea and cake.

"D-did Gabrielle see?" she asked, the tone of her voice making it clear that she really didn't want to know the answer. Gregoire reached over and took one of her hands in his own, brushing his thumb lightly over her knuckles. Harry bowed his head.

"Unfortunately. There was little I could do otherwise, without putting her in great danger." Apolline's body shook with renewed sobs. "I am sorry."

"Could you modify her memory? Make her forget the whole ordeal?" Gregoire asked.

"I could, but I won't."

"Why?"

"This experience will affect her deeply, and will change who she is and who she will be. It will shape her personality and her character, and I will not stand in the way of that."

"She's just a child!"

""And she will therefore be stronger because of it."

"How can you..."

"I have made my decision, and I implore you not to go against it behind my back. You may well do more harm than good."

Gregoire wrapped his arm around his sobbing wife, pulling her close as fresh tears graced her features.

"Who were they?"

"I don't know, but I'm fairly positive that they weren't the top dogs in this scheme. If they were, they would have killed Gabrielle. They were there to send a message, to show how vulnerable you really are. The whole thing reeks of amateurism. A professional gets on with it; he doesn't play with his food. If it were me, I would have set up defenses, then proceeded to terrorise you immediately. Send you parts of her, make demands..."

"Enough!"

Apolline surged to her feet, crossing the gap between the seats in two long strides. Harry instinctively rose to his feet, his hand twitching, ready to release his wand from it's wrist holster at a moment's notice.

"How can you be so calm about this, so detached? Stop talking about my daughter as though she's a piece of meat! She's a person!"

"Because it's a distraction! It..."

He didn't get to finish his sentence, as Apolline sent a stinging slap across his face before storming out of the room. Harry rubbed his cheek, wincing slightly as he turned back to Gregoire, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing the parchment he had taken from the leader.

"I took this from the group. I shall be investigating this, to see if I can determine who's behind all this. Once I find that out, I'll put an end to this once and for all."

Gregoire nodded wearily, standing up and stretching.

"Thank you, Collard, for my daughter and for this." He glanced toward the door his wife had barrelled through. "I'll talk to Apolline. I think she had allowed herself to relax too much."

Harry nodded.

"Understandable. One more thing; while I am investigating this situation, I must ask that you do not leave the grounds. The wards will keep you safe."

Gregoire frowned.

"You ask a great deal, Collard."

"I understand, but this is with your safety in mind. It is only temporary."

"I... suppose that's agreeable."

"Thank you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I would like to check up on Gabrielle."

Gregoire motioned toward the door.

"Of course."

Harry bowed his head and strode across the room and through the door.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Fleur was sitting on Gabrielle's bed, stroking her sister's hair gently. The younger girl's sobs had faded out, but her breath still came in ragged gasps and her face was still buried in Fleur's shoulder.

The resentment Fleur had initially felt after being banished from the living room had diminished somewhat, though she had already made the decision to seek her father out later and ask him what Collard had told him.

Fleur sighed lightly. Collard had been with the family for weeks now, but he was still as much of an enigma now as he was when he first arrived. He kept to himself, but he was always somewhere in the manor, enchanting objects or warding the grounds. It was slightly unsettling that he managed to be nowhere and yet everywhere at the same time.

She jumped slightly as a knocking on the door reverberated around the room. She opened her mouth, but the door was already opening. She watched as Collard slipped quietly into the room, gently closing the door behind him. He walked over to the bed and tapped Fleur on the shoulder.

"I'd like to check up on Gabrielle, if you don't mind."

"The Healers assured us that she was fine."

"And that's all very well, but this is for my own peace of mind."

Fleur sat for a moment before slowly extracting herself from her sister's grip. Gabrielle whimpered as she felt Fleur move away from her, but made no attempt to stop her. Collard quickly knelt down in front of her and raised her head gently, looking into her eyes. Fleur didn't have the first clue what he was doing, as he didn't seem to be doing anything, so she waited, standing awkwardly at the foot of the bed.

"Everything's going to be ok, Gabrielle. They can't hurt you now."

Gabrielle's voice was shaky, her breathing still rather ragged.

"It was so scary."

"I know."

"You killed them." There was nothing in her voice. It wasn't accusatory, or fearful, it was a statement of fact. Fleur let out a gasp at this revelation. Collard nodded.

"I'm sorry you had to see it. If there was any other method, I would have used it."

"I'm scared, Collard."

Fleur glanced at Collard. His emerald eyes were filled with a mixture of emotions; pity, anger, sadness and several others that she couldn't exactly deduce. When he spoke, it was with real conviction.

"You're safe here, Gabrielle. I won't let anyone else hurt you or your family. I promise."

Gabrielle nodded.

"I just want to go to bed."

Collard nodded again.

"Here."

He waved his hand across the youngest Delacour's face. Fleur watched as her sister's eyelids slowly fluttered shut and Collard gently lowered her to her bed. Standing, he waved his hand across the bed and the sheets lifted and folded over Gabrielle. Despite the circumstances, Fleur couldn't help but be impressed. Wandless magic was no easy feat, even for adult wizards, and here stood a boy of sixteen making it look like the easiest piece of magic to work. Her curiosity about the boy heightened several degrees.

"Fleur?"

Fleur started, realising she had been lost in her own little world. Turning, she saw Collard waiting by the door, holding it ajar.

"Yes?"

Collard looked slightly confused.

"Are you coming?"

Fleur flushed slightly.

"Oh. Yes, of course."

She hurried across the room and past Collard into the hallway. As she passed the bodyguard, she could jst make out a red mark on his cheek. She waited until Collard closed the door behind him before gesturing to the mark.

"Where did you get that?"

"You mother took this a little harder than the rest of your family."

Fleur nodded sadly.

"Her children are her world. She can't conceive of the fact that anyone would harm us just to get to my father."

"There is nothing more deadly than a mother whose offspring are in danger."

Collard started as Fleur suddenly wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close.

"Thank you, Collard."

Fleur could feel Collard's body stiffening, clearly unused to such contact. He raised a hand and patted her awkwardly on the back.

"What for?"

"My sister. If you weren't here, we may have never seen her again." She withdrew her arms from Collard, and watched as he visibly relaxed. "Thank you."

Collard shook his head.

"She will never be the same again, I trust you realise this. She has witnessed and experienced things that no child should have to witness or experience."

Fleur looked into his eyes again, those eyes that seemed to hold oceans. The longer she looked into his eyes, the more she felt she was learning about the boy she was entrusting with her life, but she also saw just how much there was to learn about him. Things that she was sure no-one had ever, or would ever, learn.

"Have you witnessed and experienced those things, Collard?" she asked, unsure of whether she actually wanted to hear the answer.

Collard fixed her with a piercing gaze, one that made Fleur feel as though he were looking through her eyes into her very soul. For the longest time he didn't speak. Fleur was sure he wasn't going to answer, before he sighed lightly.

"You are venturing into dangerous territory here, Mademoiselle. A person's experiences shape who they are and who they will be become. They can give you insight into them, insight you may wish you never had. Know this; I would have been grateful if I had only witnessed what your sister did."

"Damn it Collard, stop talking in riddles!" Fleur snapped. Collard, to his credit, did not seemed fazed by the sudden temperament change in the blonde in front of him.

"I have told you before that I do not become attached to my clients. That means revealing as little as possible about myself. It is for your benefit that I do this. You ask only out of morbid curiosity. Did you never hear the old saying, 'curiosity killed the Niffler'?"

Collard spun on his heel and strode away down the corridor. Fleur stared after him.

"One man is not an island, Collard!" she called after him. "Would it really be so bad to let someone in and share your burden?"

There was no answer. Sighing dejectedly, Fleur spun and walked away to her own bedroom, lost in thought.

_There has to be someway to get him to let me in._

-x-x-x-x-x-

Harry closed and locked the door to his room. Sighing heavily, he pulled off his cloak and flung it over the back of one of the chairs. Striding over to his trunk, he pulled out his Contact Mirror and Transport Box. Holding the mirror up, he called out the name of his contact. A moment later, the surface shimmered, and an elderly man's face filled the mirror. He looked to be about sixty, with long grey hair that hung limply around his shoulders. He had several yellowing teeth missing, and a pipe hung precariously from the side of his mouth. Collard smiled slightly.

"Good afternoon, Legworth. I need a trace on a contract. I'm sending it to you now."


	6. VOLUME ONE - The Plot Thickens

**~Chapter Five – The Plot Thickens~**

The Hangman's Noose was a dingy and filthy bar set in the dark back alleys of a small French wizarding village near Saint-Fuscien, just outside Amiens. The sign hung precariously from its bracket over the door, ready to brain the unfortunate witch or wizard who happened to be standing under it during a particularly heavy gust of wind. The door itself was streaked with grime, and the window was little more than a hole in the wood.

Inside, the pub wasn't much better. The lighting came from stubs of candles burning in vases on the tables and a few sparse torches on the wall, making the rest of the room flicker with shadows as the patrons dragged themselves across the room to order more drinks. In one corner, a pair of witches shared a pipe, blowing a foul-smelling smoke into the air. At the bar, three men were laughing raucously while a goblin glared at them. In another corner, almost entirely concealed in shadows, four men were talking in hushed voices.

In a private room at the back of the premises, away from the dingy and public surroundings sat a boy and a much older man. The man was sat as far as humanly possible from the boy, whose face was hidden entirely in shadow by his hood. The white scar on the boy's cheek stood out vividly in the flickering light. Even though he knew he was just a boy, the man was more than aware of what he was capable of. He had seen the boy plough his way through an entire squad of mercenaries without breaking a sweat. Suddenly, the request to meet in secret didn't seem like such a good idea.

"Well, Legworth?" the boy asked, a trace of irritation in his voice. "What was so important that you insisted on a private meeting, rather than communicating through a Contact Mirror?"

Legworth gulped, hoping his voice wouldn't betray the fear currently coursing through him.

"I couldn't be sure that the information could not be intercepted. This is big, Collard."

Harry smirked slightly. He was well aware that Contact Mirrors were unlikely to be observed, but he decided to play along for the moment.

"Please, continue."

Legworth swallowed again, reaching his hand into the pocket of his rather grubby overcoat, pulling out a scrap of parchment.

"I looked into the contract you sent over. It was taken out in Calais, through an agency."

"Who paid it?"

Legworth consulted the parchment briefly.

"A Mr. C. Devereaux. I'm sorry, I don't have a first name. I can look into it if you..."

Harry waved his hand.

"No matter, I can find that out myself." He scratched absently at his jaw. "What was the agency?"

Legworth looked down at the parchment again.

"It doesn't have a name, it just says 'Drapé dans Ombres'."

"Cloaked in Shadows." Harry murmured under his breath. Legworth's eyebrow raised slightly.

"You've - You've heard of them?"

Harry laughed lightly.

"You could say that." Legworth waited, but Harry showed no indication of embellishing the story. Clearing his throat, he passed the parchment to Harry.

"Here, for your information."

Harry took the parchment and placed it safely in his pocket.

"My thanks, Legworth."

Legworth shifted uncomfortably in his chair, a motion that did not go by Harry unnoticed.

"Something troubling you, Legworth?"

Legworth jumped slightly.

"N-not at all, Collard."

Harry moved so fast Legworth barely had time to register the fact that Harry had moved until he was pushing Legworth against the wall, his wand pointed directly between the elderly man's eyes.

"Do you want to reconsider that statement?"

"Okay, okay!" Legworth was visibly shaking now. "When I was poking around, I found out that this Devereaux had taken out a separate contract against you. There's a group waiting for you out in the bar."

"How could they know I would be here?"

"I may have let it slip when he caught me eavesdropping." Legworth admitted, trying desperately not to meet Harry's emerald green gaze. Harry's grip tightened on Legworth.

"I don't like being deceived, Legworth. It makes me wonder whether you have become a liability." Legworth let out a squeak of fear. Harry smiled coldly. "How many in the group, Legworth?"

"F-four, I think."

"You _think_?" Harry asked, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"Four! It's four! Please, let me go!"

Harry exhaled through his nose sharply and released his grip on Legworth, pushing him roughly back into his seat.

"You will stay here. You leave this room, and I will kill you. Am I understood?"

Legworth nodded furiously. Harry smiled again.

"Good." He glanced toward Legworth's trousers. "You can change your trousers in a minute."

Legworth glanced unconsciously toward his crotch. He looked up again, but Harry had already disappeared through the door.

"Oh, shit," he muttered, casting his gaze around the room, desperately looking for some form of escape route. "Shit, shit, shit."

-x-x-x-x-x-

Fleur cast another furtive glance around as she stole into Collard's room, which, for once, had not been locked. Closing the door quietly behind her, she looked around the bodyguard's room.

If she didn't know the bodyguard was staying in the room, she would have thought no one was. The room was pristine, the desk was completely clear, the bookshelves appeared untouched and the bed was perfectly made. She knew that Collard allowed no-one, not even the house elves, into the room, so the meticulousness with which he kept the room tidy was quite a surprise. The only indication that the room was inhabited at all was the presence of a large chest at the foot of the bed. It appeared unremarkable, but there was something about it that drew her to it. If there was anything in the room to tell her more about Collard, it would be in the trunk.

She knelt down beside it, running her eyes over the trunk. It was very simple, though what shocked her most was the fact that there were no clasps or buckles holding it shut. Instead, the lid seemed to simply be part of the body of the trunk, an extension of the material. Silvery runes, like the ones she had seen Collard painting several weeks ago, flowed gracefully over the trunk. Tentatively, she reached out and grasped the sides of the lid.

She had barely a second before she realised that prying into her bodyguard's personal effects had been a mistake. Almost immediately, a white-hot pain seared through her skull, forcing her eyes shut against the pain. It felt as though thousands of tiny, burning pins were being pushed roughly through her brain. She cried out in pain and tried to let go of the lid, but found that she couldn't. It was as if her hands had been stuck to the trunk, and the harder she tried to unstick them, the harder they stuck.

The pain in her head was getting worse. She wanted to grip her head, but her hands were sticking harder and harder. She moaned as the pain began stabbing at her mind, forcing its way deeper into her brain. She tried to call out for help but found that her jaw had locked shut. Whimpering, she forced herself to her feet and pushed her foot against the trunk, trying to force herself away. But it was to no avail.

Just when she thought she would pass out from the pain, she felt a tremendous surge of energy and she flew across the room, landing in a heap by the door. She lay there for a few moments, curled into a ball, clutching her head, waiting for the pain to subside.

Once she felt able to stand under her own power, she slowly, cautiously dragged herself to her feet. The pain in her head had subsided somewhat, and she stared at the trunk. It appeared completely normal still, but the runes were shimmering brightly, swirling and thrumming with energy.

Rubbing her temples slightly in an attempt to alleviate the last traces of pain, Fleur backed out of the room, praying that no-one had heard the commotion.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Harry closed the door behind him, locking it as he did so, casting a quick look around the pub, seeking out the group Legworth had confessed to. It didn't take him long. As soon as the door had snapped shut, four men had turned their heads, stared at him for a few seconds longer than was wholly necessary before turning back to each other, whispering excitedly. Harry smirked. _All too easy._

He walked out into the bar, starting a countdown in his head.

_Three._

The volume of the patrons diminished very suddenly, as if they could sense what would happen next.

_Two._

The group of men rose from their seats, their hands disappearing inside their cloaks.

_One._

Harry spun around, thrusting his hand out toward the men, an invisible shield erecting in front of him as several potentially lethal curses flew toward him. They impacted against the shield in an explosion of noise.

Silence filled the pub. Then, a woman screamed. And chaos erupted.

Harry used a Summoning Charm to pull one of his attackers into the path of a Blood Boiling Curse. The man screamed in pain as his blood began to boil in his veins. Harry let the man's momentum carry him across the room, where he smashed into a table, splintering the wood and leaving a trail of blood along the floor as he skidded to a halt. People were now cowering under their tables. The barman looked ready to draw his wand, but a deflected curse sailed inches past his face, obliterating the various bottles of liquor behind him. He paled and ducked under the bar.

Harry advanced on the remaining men, deflecting curses every which way, disregarding who or what they hit. He had yet to unholster his wand, but he was enjoying the expressions of the attackers too much. Ever since he had learnt how to control his magic, wandless magic had become almost second nature. Sure, a wand was useful at times, but when a point had to be made, or people had to be intimidated, wandless magic was his first choice.

One man was doused with water as Harry approached. He looked at his cohorts in confusion, before a ball of electricity burst forth from Harry's hand, impacting against the man's chest. The man's body jerked and spasmed as the electricity coursed through his body before he collapsed to the floor.

The patrons were now running toward the door, heads ducked low, their arms shielding them as they ran. Harry paid them no mind as he turned his attention to the remaining pair. They were almost backed into a corner, their eyes wide, but they were still flinging curses Harry's way. Harry had to give them credit; whoever this Devereaux was, he certainly seemed to know how to pick his mercenaries.

Harry clicked his fingers and the men's wands spun out of their grips, sailing toward Harry who snatched them out of the air. Pointing them at their owners, he muttered a spell and black ropes streamed from the ends of the wands, binding the men together. Harry continued forward, until he was standing over the mercenaries.

"You were hired by a Monsieur Devereaux. I want to know where I can find him."

"You don't find Monsieur Devereaux; he finds you." one of the men spat. Harry raised his foot and slammed it down onto the man's groin. The man cried out in pain and curled up into a foetal position as much as the ropes would allow.

"Wrong answer."

"You're protecting the Delacour family, right?" the other man asked. Harry didn't respond. "I'm sure you'll meet him soon enough."

Harry sighed.

"Well, if you're going to be cryptic about it..."

Harry reached out with his mind and smashed through the man's feeble mental barriers. The man gasped in pain as Harry roughly tore through his mind, searching for anything he could find relating to this Devereaux character. Several memories flashed before him. A grandiose manor. A meeting room. Contracts drawn up. And a signature.

_Christophe Devereaux._

Harry searched through for a place to match the contract. Remembering Legworth mentioning Calais, he sifted throughthe man's memories, oblivious to the cries of the man, before finding a reference to a manor outside Calais. Satisfied, Harry retreated from the man's mind.

"Very kind of you." he said, spinning on his heel and walking back to the room that still housed Legworth. Unlocking the door, Harry strode in to see Legworth trying to pop the window open.

"Going somewhere?"

Legworth gave a cry of surprise and backed quickly away from the window.

"Oh! Collard! So good to see you unharmed!"

"Cut the crap, Legworth!" Harry snapped harshly. He pointed one of the wands at Legworth and thick black ropes encircled the informant. He swayed slightly before toppling over. Harry heard a satisfying crunch as Legworth's nose broke. "I don't take kindly to being set up."

"He would have killed me, Collard!"

"And what makes you think I won't?"

Silence. Harry smirked.

"That's what I thought. Make your peace with God, Mr. Legworth."

Harry turned and walked back out the room, locking it behind him once again, leaving Legworth to struggle on the floor. He continued past the two mercenaries, still bound on the floor and pushed the door to the pub open.

He was greeted by the patrons of the bar and the barkeeper himself, all staring at him in a mixture of awe and fear. Closing the door behind him, he strode up to the barkeeper, who backed away, fear etched in his face.

"You might want to find new premises."

"What are you..." the man started, but Harry raised his hand and clicked his fingers.

Fire exploded out of the pub, shattering the windows and decimating the door. The crowd turned sharply to avoid the glass, splinters and extreme heat. The barman looked around again, but Harry was gone, leaving the burning pub in his wake.

-x-x-x-x-x-

"I don't like this."

Gregoire looked over at Gabrielle.

"What don't you like?"

"Monsieur Collard being away. It makes me nervous."

"Monsieur Collard can look after himself, I'm sure he's fine. And he said he strengthened our wards, so we're perfectly safe as well."

Gabrielle nodded, though she didn't seem all that reassured.

Moments later, Fleur ambled in, still rubbing her head. Gregoire looked at her worriedly.

"Are you okay, Fleur?"

Fleur nodded absentmindedly.

"Yeah, just a bit of a headache."

Gregoire narrowed his eyes slightly, but thankfully made no further comment. Fleur lowered herself into one of the plush armchairs near the fireplace.

"When is Monsieur Collard supposed to be coming back?"

"I honestly have no idea. He said he'd be back by now." Gregoire said, a hint of worry in his tone. "I hope he didn't run into any complications."

"I'm sure he's fine." The words were out of Fleur's mouth before she could censor them. She flushed slightly, but her father made no comment. They sat in companionable silence for a moment, before a loud boom in the distance cut through the silence.

"Probably just Muggles letting off fireworks." Gregoire said, trying to convince himself as much as his daughters, as what he expected the reality to be.

Another boom rent the air, closer and louder this time.

"Are you sure, Papa?" Fleur asked, glancing toward the window. Gregoire stood and cautiously made his way to the window. He pulled the curtain back and looked outside.

"I sure as hell hope Collard gets back soon."

"Why?"

"Because we really need him."

-x-x-x-x-x-

Harry crested the hill that led to the Delacour manor, the wind ruffling his hair slightly. As he gazed down on the entrance to the grounds, he could make out a dark mass huddled by the gates. As he drew closer he could make out flashes of light of various colours impacting against an invisible wall. A few steps closer and he could see the scale of the forces at the gates.

Between twenty and thirty people were gathered, wands drawn, firing spell after spell at the wards, trying in vain to break through them. Harry stopped dead. The wards were strong, but they wouldn't hold up under a concentrated barrage for very long.

_Oh, hell._


	7. VOLUME ONE - Skirmish at Delacour Manor

**~Chapter Six – The Skirmish at Delacour Manor~**

Harry flicked his wrist and released his wand from its holster, spinning it between his fingers. Slowly, he crept aroun the edge of the grounds, away from the attack force, clinging to the shadows. As he moved around them, he could get a better view of the group as a whole.

Unlike the other groups he had encountered so far, this group seemed a lot more organised. They wouldn't be put down or intimidated so easily, not when they outnumbered the family by nearly six to one. To attempt to take them on on his own would be suicide. One person? No challenge at all. Five people? Easy. Ten? Done it on at least three separate occasions. But nearly thirty was well out of his league. This was the big leagues now. They wouldn't go down without a fight.

Crouching in the shadow of a large tree, Harry watched as the group stopped firing spells at the ward net. He furrowed his brow as they turned and began to converse with each other, but they were too far away for him to properly hear what they were saying.

He squinted in the gloom as one of the men pulled a bag out of his pocket, reaching into it. His eyes widened in shock as the man pulled out a large tablet, setting it on the ground right at the edge of the ward net.

Remaining crouched, he took aim and loosed a Killing Curse at the man crouching by the net. The jet of green light struck him in the side of the head, sending him sprawling across the ground. Immediately, wands were drawn and aimed into the darkness. Several jets of green were fired in random directions in retaliation, none coming even remotely near Harry. Harry fired another Killing Curse, taking out another member of the assembled group.

"Over there!" he heard a man shout. Several jets of light flew toward Harry's current position. He flattened himself to the ground, allowing the various spells to go whizzing over his head. He scrambled to his feet and ran as fast as he could without giving away his movements to the other side of the path, loosing another two Killing Curses into the midst of the group. One hit a woman square in the chest, while the other impacted against the tablet still on the floor, blasting it to smithereens, sending shards of stone into the people standing nearest to it. Screams of pain rent the air as several people collapsed, their legs suddenly full of shards of stone.

"_Lumos Maxima_!"

Harry cursed as a dazzling white light illuminated the path, his black robes and cloak an obvious contrast to the sudden brightness of the surroundings.

He ducked as another curse flew toward his head, before changing direction and charging straight toward the group, despite his reservations about confronting the group as a whole. He twisted his ring so that the stone was facing into his palm, his thumb hovering just over the stone. He deflected several curses that sailed toward him, sending them crashing into the ground, throwing up dirt and rock. As soon as he was within ten feet of the foremost attacker, he pushed his thumb down onto the stone, activating the homing feature.

But he wasn't quite quick enough. A curse shot straight at him, aimed for his face. He tried to duck, but the curse hit him in the forehead, just above his right eye. He gave a cry of pain as he disappeared.

-x-x-x-x-x-

"Papa? What's going on?"

Gregoire shushed his daughter as he continued to peer out of the window. The flashes and bangs had subsided somewhat, and he was just starting to wonder if whoever was responsible had given up when light blazed over the grounds, illuminating the gate and the group beyond it. Gregoire gasped at the sheer number of them.

"Fleur, find your mother and tell her to come here immediately."

"What's going on?"

"Just _do it_!"

Fleur nodded and walked quickly out of the living room.

Flashes and bangs erupted once again, renting the silence of the night. Gregoire squinted, trying to get a closer look. The group were now firing spells toward a black clad figure, who was darting this way and that, avoiding the spells wher possible and returning fire during the brief respites the group gave them. It didn't take much intuition from Gregoire to work out who it was.

"Collard."

He continued to watch as Collard feverishly deflected spell after spell. Suddenly, a jet of light flew toward Collard's head. Gregoire shouted out a warning, as useless as it was, but Collard had already disappeared.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Harry reappeared in the foyer of the Delacour manor. He could feel something warm dripping down his face, and tentatively raised a hand to locate the source. As he moved his hand across his forehead, he found his fingers becoming slick, and he pulled his hand away to examine it.

His fingers were coated in a thin film of blood. He blinked, trying to direct the droplets rolling down his face from running into his eye.

_Must have been where the curse hit me,_ he thought. But he didn't concern himself with it; there was more important matters to deal with. He wiped his sleeve over the cut, removing as much of the blood as he could and walked quickly in the direction of the living room.

The family were already gathered, trying to appear unafraid, but their faces told another story entirely. They looked up as Harry barrelled through the door. He heard Fleur give an audible gasp as she took in his blood stained face, but he paid it no mind. Striding across the room, he gripped Gregoire's shoulder firmly.

"We've been compromised. You need to get out of here. Now."

"Collard, what - "

"I don't have time to explain." Harry said. "They have runestones, therefore, I think they are likely to try to disrupt the ward net. If they do, they can gain access. This house is no longer safe."

"I can arrange for a squad of Aurors to be here in a matter of minutes." Gregoire said, his eyes searching Harry's face.

"You can do that if you wish, but you and your family cannot remain here. I can buy you some time, but not very much. This group are different from the others. They know what they're doing."

Gregoire looked torn.

"What do you propose?"

"I have several safe houses around the country. I will send you to one of them. But I need time to make sure it's open. You'll have to hide somewhere in the manor in the meantime."

Gregoire nodded.

"I understand."

"Good. Now, get yourselves hidden."

He spun on his heel and strode out of the room, making his way as quickly as possible to his room.

Gregoire turned to his family.

"To the food stores. Come on."

-x-x-x-x-x-

"How much longer?"

The man trying to arrange the second rune stone glanced up nervously, sweating slightly.

"Not much longer." There was a pause. "Are you sure this is a good idea? That bodyguard is ruthless."

"He is just a boy, and we vastly outnumber him. He won't survive, and neither will the dear Minister."

The man returned his attention to the stone on the ground. Taking in a shaky breath, he continued drawing on the runes, slowly, deliberately. The group around him were tensing, their grips tightening and loosening on their wands. Only the leader seemed completely at ease.

He finished the final rune and stood.

"It's done. It just needs to be imbued with magic."

The leader's face was a mask of determination.

"Well? What are you waiting for?"

The man took in a breath and pointed his wand at the stone. He muttered a spell, far too quietly for the others to hear, and the runes began to glow.

"Stand back."

The group took a couple of paces back, their grips once again tightening on their wands. As they watched, the outline of a large dome appeared before them. The rune stone glowed brighter, and silvery cracks began to spider out from the stone, spreading across the dome in a massive web. The web spread quickly, covering the entire dome. When it reached the other side, silence surrounded them. They waited. Suddenly, there was a fizzling sound, and the portions of the dome created by the cracks began to hiss and melt away.

The man turned to the leader.

"We're in."

The leader grinned savagely and turned to the group.

"All right, you know why we're here. We go in, grab the family and get out. If you see the bodyguard, kill him. Feel free to rough the family up a bit, but _don't_ kill them. Am I understood?"

A chorus of 'Yes, sir's answered him.

"Good. Now, let's go."

-x-x-x-x-x-

The first thing Harry noticed when he entered his living quarters was the fact that the runes on his trunk were glowing softly, indicating that someone had attempted to gain access to the contents. It didn't take him long to figure out who it was likely to have been. Making a mental note to confront Fleur later, he bypassed the security spells and pulled out his Contact Mirror.

"Mouse."

Moments later, Mouse's face swam into view.

"Mouse, I need you to open the gate to safe house 17." Harry said, dispensing with pleasantries. Mouse's features twisted in concern.

"Of course, but why?"

"You don't need to concern yourself with why." Harry said brusquely. "Just do as I say."

"Of course. I'll need time though."

Harry scowled.

"How much?"

"Half an hour."

"Make it twenty minutes."

Mouse nodded.

"I'll do my best."

"Thank you, Mouse."

Mouse's face disappeared as Harry severed the connection, placing the mirror back into the trunk. He rummaged around a little before drawing ouot a small, red orb. Placing it in a pocket, he closed the trunk, reapplied the various security spells and shrunk it down, placing the miniaturised trunk into another pocket.

A low hissing sound caught his attention. Crossing to the window, he could see the ward net crumbling away, and the group in the distance preparing themselves.

_I should have said ten minutes._ Harry thought. He moved to the door, removing his wand from its holster and starting back down the stairs. Reaching out with his mind, he could just sense the Delacours near the kitchens. Reaching the foyer, he spun and started toward the dining room.

He more sensed the incoming spells before he saw their effects. He threw himself to the ground as the front wall of the house exploded inwards, sending wood and stone flying into the house. Swiftly casting a Bubble-Head Charm to avoid breathing in the dust, he scrambled to his feet. Through the dust cloud, he could see people rushing toward the gaping hole in the manor, wands raised. He fired two Killing Curses through the cloud, not caring if they hit their mark or not and ran toward the kitchens. He kicked the door open and slid through. Pointing his wand at the dust cloud again, he cast another spell, immediately solidifying the cloud.

_That should hold them for a while._

He followed the corridor down to the food stores, releasing the Bubble-Head charm. He twisted the handle, but found it locked.

"_Alohomora!_"

The lock clicked and the door swung open. Harry quickly slid in and surveyed the scene in front of him.

The Delacours were huddled in the corner. Fleur and Gregoire had their wands out, their other arms wrapped around Gabrielle and Apolline, respectively. They seemed to visibly relax at Harry's presence.

"What's happening?" Gregoire asked, dropping his wand slightly.

"They've breached the house. I've stalled them, but we don't have long." He pulled the orb from his pocket, handing it to Gregoire. "This is a Gate. I have someone opening a safe house as we speak. When it turns blue, tap it with your wand, and it will transport you to the safe house. It is imperative that you all go together. I can get there without a Gate, but the rest of you can't." He moved back to the door.

"Where are you going?" Fleur asked, her grip tightening on her wand.

"Buying you some more time."

"I'm coming with you."

"I hardly think so."

"Why not? I can take care of myself. I took part in the Triwizard Tournament - "

"A competition with safety regulations in place. But this is not a competition. In a competition, if you make a mistake, you lose. If you make a mistake here, you will die. You will stay here. I'm expendable; you're not."

"But - "

"But _nothing_, Fleur!" Harry shouted. "You're staying here!"

With that, he spun on his heel and ran out of the room, throwing the door shut behind him.

"He'll be killed!" Fleur exclaimed. "There must be loads of them out there!"

"That's what I'm paying him for." Gregoire said gently. "His top priority is our safety."

No, I refuse to let him just throw his life away." Fleur said, and ran towards the door. Gregoire reached out to grab her, but came up with only a fistful of air.

"Fleur!"

But she had gone.

-x-x-x-x-x-

It was the most difficult fight of Harry's life. He was vastly outnumbered, and his only advantage was that he knew the layout of the manor better than they did. But that knowledge was rather difficult to use against such overwhelming force.

He had been right when he had thought that these people were different. They did not attack at random, but rather in coordinated strikes, combining spell effects with lethal precision. He had never been more thankful for his warded cloak, as he could not hope to deflect every spell, hex and curse that came his way.

A man's head exploded in a mist of bone and gore as he peered around a corner. Harry moved forward cautiously, expecting another attack at any moment.

He was not to be disappointed. A jet of light streaked through the air toward him, ruffling his hair as it passed. He spun toward the source, loosing a Killing Curse as he did so. He heard a cry and moved on toward the foyer.

The solidified dust cloud had long been destroyed. Great chunks of rubble were strewn across the floor, and paintings hung at odd angles from the walls. But what caught his attention first was the ten people circling around him, much like a pack of lions would circle a zebra out on an African plain.

Harry smiled. These were odds in his favour. He re-holstered his wand, stretched his fingers, and grinned.

"Come on then."

The group raised their wands, and Harry spun into action.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Fleur hid herself in the shadows under the stairs in the foyer, watching the action unfold before her. Collard was surrounded on all sides, but still he seemed as calm and collected as ever. She tried not to gasp as she saw him stow his wand away. _What are you doing?_ Then she saw him grin. He said something. She didn't hear what. Then the group moved toward him, and time seemed to slow down.

Collard's hair, which seemed to have come loose from his normal ponytail at some point during the fray, whipped through the air as he span, flecks of blood flying from the still open wound on his head. His emerald green eyes flashed dangerously as he sent a curse spinning away from him and into the wall. He ducked as two spells flew toward his head, colliding in a shower of sparks above him. He rolled to his feet and thrust his arm out toward one of the group, sending the unfortunate man slamming into the wall with a sickening crunch. He twisted, ducked and weaved effortlessly and gracefully, avoiding and deflecting spells all the while. It was breathtaking to behold. His movements reminded Fleur of a dancer, light and graceful, yet also filled with purpose. It was both beautiful and terrifying.

She gave a cry as a strong arm grabbed her around the neck from behind. She could feel hot breath tickling her ear and smell the sweat pouring down the man's face.

"Evening, precious." the man grinned, his grip tightening ever so slightly.

With the pressure around her neck slowly starting to cut off her oxygen supply, she didn't have time to think of a spell. Instead, she brought her wand up and rammed it as hard as she could into the man's face. The man screamed in pain as the point of her wand pierced his eye and he released her, clutching his face.

The noise was enough to gain Collard's attention. Looking over, his eyes widened at the sight. Thrusting his arms out, he sent a pulse of magic through the foyer, knocking his attackers off their feet. He ran toward Fleur, firing a Killing Curse as he went, putting the man out of his misery.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Fleur?" he roared, firing another couple of lethal-looking curses at the downed intruders.

"You can't just throw your life away!" she shouted back, throwing a Stunner at a woman who had managed to regain her feet.

"That's not for you to decide!" Collard shouted, and Fleur felt a twinge of guilt. Collard had seemed perfectly in control of the proceedings, and thanks to her, he had had to divert his attention. "Come on, the safe house should be open now!"

He fired another curse at a man who was clinging to the wall, who screamed as his knees bent far beyond hyper-extension. Collard grabbed Fleur's hand and dragged her back toward the kitchen, firing curses left, right and centre.

When they finally reached the kitchen, Collard pulled the store room door open and thrust Fleur inside.

"Fleur!"

Gregoire's voice was filled with relief. Collard glanced at the orb in his hand.

"The safe house is open! Go!"

"What about you?" Fleur cried, moving toward him again.

"Don't worry about me! Go!"

A faint roaring was coming from outside the kitchen. Collard turned to the family.

"Go!"

The entire wall crumbled, and a huge snake composed entirely of fire burst into the kitchen.

_Fiendfyre._

The snake reared up, as though measuring Collard.

"GO!" Collard screamed. Gregoire grabbed Fleur's arm, who only put up a token resistance, entranced as she was with the great snake. Apolline grabbed Gabrielle's hand in one hand and Gregoire's arm with the other. Gregoire pulled his wand out.

"I won't tell you again! GO!"

The next few moments were a blur. The snake lunged forward. Collard threw his hands up in front of him as if to defend himself, but the snake kept coming. Gabrielle screamed. So did Fleur. Gregoire's wand came down on the orb.

The last thing Fleur saw before they disappeared was the figure of Collard being consumed by the fire.


	8. VOLUME ONE - Awakening

**~Chapter Seven - Awakening~**

The family reappeared in a rather bare room. A light fixture hung from the ceiling, bathing the room in a soft light. Several chairs were scattered around the room, and a small table occupied the centre of the room. There was no decoration to speak of; the walls were completely bare apart from a layer of paint. It wasn't particularly homely, but it felt safe, and that was what mattered at that moment in time.

As soon as she was able, Fleur rounded on her father.

"How could you just leave Collard behind?" she cried, her eyes brimming with tears. "You've just left him for dead!"

"His job is to ensure our safety," Gregoire replied, his voice shaking slightly. "no matter the cost."

"But he's just a boy." Fleur whispered. "He's just a boy."

Gregoire pulled her into an embrace.

"I know, and I'm sorry. But he knew the risks; we all did. What matters is that we're safe. He did his part. When all this is over, I'll be sure to award him a posthumous Order of Merlin for what he did for us."

Fleur extracted herself from her father's arms.

"I just want to be alone."

"Of course."

Gregoire watched as Fleur slowly exited the room. Apolline touched him lightly on the arm, her other arm around Gabrielle, who was sobbing quietly.

"Are you going to talk to her about running into the battle like that?"

"Not now." Gregoire replied, his hand closing over his wife's. "For now, let her grieve."

-x-x-x-x-x-

Fleur found the bedrooms in little time, as the safe house was a lot smaller than the manor. She crossed the room to the bed and let herself flop down onto it, burying her face in the pillow.

In the short time Collard had been with the family, he had seamlessly integrated with them. He had become something akin to a brother to Fleur, albeit a dangerous and withdrawn brother. But there was something about him that had intrigued Fleur. The way he carried himself, the way he regarded everything with cool detachment. His warnings to her not to try to get to know him had had little impact on her. The child-like portion of her conscience had yearned to find out as much about him as possible. That curiosity had almost cost her her sanity, but it still hadn't deterred her. And now, thanks to her own curiosity, he was dead.

There was no doubt in her mind that Collard had had a hard life. The scars on his body had testified to that. But what had intrigued her most was how he had used magic. She had never seen anyone wield it in the way that Collard had. In the few weeks she had known him, she had seen feats of magic that she had never been witness to before. And now he was dead. She would never see his unique command of magic again. And the worst part of it was, was that it was all her fault. If she had simply remained with her family, rather than venturing out into the skirmish, Collard could have easily removed the attackers from the face of the earth. Instead, she had proven a distraction, and a fatal one at that.

She jumped as her father's voice cut through the air, breaking the silence around her.

"Fleur? Fleur!" His voice was a mixture of shock, fear and elation. "Come here!"

She dragged herself to her feet and wearily made her way across the room and back out into the hallway.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Harry gave a cry of pain as the blazing heat tore through him. The wards on his cloak were glowing brightly, the only barrier between himself and the fire roaring over him. The magic he had imbued the runes with had quickly dissipated, and the magic was now being drawn from his own reserves of energy. His hands were starting to blister as he held the shielding of the wards away from him, allowing for distance between himself and the fire.

Harry was not afraid of death. He had expected to die every day since he ran away from his aunt and uncle's house, or what remained of it. He had expected the streets to kill him, and when they didn't, he began to train himself in controlling his magic. He had experimented, stolen books and killed to get where he was today. He had no regrets.

Suddenly, something clicked in his mind. He remembered reading something in a book he had stolen years ago, about dispelling the effects of magic in a large area. To do so would be incredibly foolish, not to mention dangerous and possibly life-threatening, but he didn't have much choice. If he didn't, he would definitely die.

As the heat of the flames continued to push inward on him, he summoned all his energy and began to wrap himself in a cocoon of magic. He could feel the energy rushing out of him, but forced himself on, determined not to give up, because to give up meant to die, and he wasn't ready to die yet.

When the heat was almost unbearable, he pulled his arms in toward his chest. He paid no attention to the blood running down his face, or the skin on his hands now beginning to bubble and blister. All his focus was on the magic spinning around him. He was dimly aware of the intruders filling the room, watching, waiting for him to finally give in.

Just when he thought he was about to collapse, he flung his arms outward. He screamed in pain as his body felt like it was going to rip apart from the sheer amount of energy leaving it. He dropped to his knees, his legs unable to continue to support his weight. The flames exploded outward, along with the full force of Harry's magical energy, completely obliterating the walls and ceiling. The intruders didn't have time to do anything as their bodies were torn apart, the fire exploding through the room, tearing apart everything it touched. Harry twisted the ring on his finger and with his remaining energy, pushed his thumb onto the stone. There was a flash of light, lost in the chaos of the explosions, and he was gone.

-x-x-x-x-x-

The first thing Fleur saw upon her entry to the living room was a dark mass led on the sofa. Her family were crowded around, their faces telling a thousand words. Apolline was regarding the mass ith what appeared to be shock and fear, while Gabrielle, her arms still tightly clasped around her mother, looked as though she were trying desperately not to throw up. Gregoire's face, however, held something akin to wonder, but the worry was also far too evident.

Fleur moved cautiously toward the sofa, starting slightly when the person shifted. As she reached the sofa, she looked down and gave a strangled sob.

The mass was Collard, but he was almost unrecognisable. His face was red raw, and the tips of his hair were uneven and smoking. His hands were almost black, angry blisters covering the palms and fingers. The runes on his cloak were audibly humming, and his robes were scorched, large holes showing through to the charred flesh below. Fleur raised her hand to her mouth as a cry threatened to loose itself.

"What – How – Is he alive?" Fleur asked her father. She tried to tear her gaze away from Collard, but it was impossible. His injuries were so horrific, it seemed impossible for him to still be alive.

"He's alive, but only just." Gregoire said, his voice heavy. "He's breathing, at least. Until he wakes up though, we won't know for certain."

Fleur stared down at the body of their bodyguard, which seemed completely lifeless. _I did this_, she thought, raking her eyes over Collard's body. _My curiosity and lack of judgment did this._ Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes, but she didn't wipe them away. She simply let them fall, each one an unspoken apology. Gregoire wrapped her in his arms as he, too, continued to regard Collard with a mixture of anxiety and wonder, wonder at the fact that despite his injuries, the young bodyguard still seemed to be among the living. For how long, though, was another matter entirely.

-x-x-x-x-x-

A week passed, and still Collard did not awaken. The family were understandable concerned, as each day that passed made it less and less likely that Collard would recover. Their only saving grace was the nature of the enchantments protecting the safe house. But until Collard came out of his comatose state, they couldn't truly relax.

One thing they did notice, however, was the abnormally fast rate at which Collard's body was healing itself. After only three days, the blisters covering his body were barely visible, and his hands had turned from blackened and charred to a gleaming pink. It defied logic, and while it certainly intrigued Fleur, she wasn't going to go snooping to find out why. She had learnt her lesson.

It was the ninth day in the safe house when Collard showed a sign of life. Fleur was sat in a chair next to the sofa, watching over Collard when his eyelids fluttered slightly. It wasn't a great deal of movement, but it caught Fleur's attention immediately.

"Collard?"

"The boy didn't respond. Instead, his eyelids fluttered lightly again.

"Papa!"

Gregoire hurried into the room at the sound of his daughter's voice, followed by Apolline and Gabrielle.

"What is it? Did he wake up?"

"Not quite, but his eyelids are fluttering. He might be coming to, if he isn't already."

Gregoire squatted down, his eyes searching Collard's face. The Delacour woman stood nearby, holding onto each other for dear life.

"Collard? Can you hear me?"

The family looked on in amazement as Collard slowly cracked one eye open. His gaze swept across the four people gathered near him, taking them in one by one.

"Merlin." Apolline breathed.

Collard slowly cracked his other eye open as he sucked in a large breath.

"Collard?"

Gregoire jumped back as an anguished scream tore from Collard as his body started thrashing uncontrollably. Fleur started forward in an attempt to restrain him, but Gregoire threw up an arm to stop her.

"No! Don't touch him!"

The Delacours looked on in horror, unable to do anything as Collard's thrashing intensified, his limbs flailing wildly. Fleur felt totally helpless, but true to her father's wishes did not attempt to move closer. _I did this._

For five long minutes, which to Fleur felt like a lifetime, Collard's body convulsed on the sofa. Finally, the thrashing ceased and Collard collapsed back onto the assorted pillows. Cautiously, Gregoire knelt back down next to Collard.

"Collard? Can you hear me?"

"Yes." Collard's voice was raspy and hoarse, both from prolonged disuse and that awful, gut-wrenching scream. Gregoire breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank Merlin. Can I get you anything?"

"Water." Collard croaked. Gregoire nodded and hurried out to the kitchen. Fleur watched as Collard forced himself into a more upright position.

"Collard, I'm so sorry..."

Collard raised his hand, and Fleur fell silent immediately.

"I will talk to you later. For now, I will explain what happened when your father returns." His tone indicated that there was no room for argument.

Fleur nodded dumbly, unable to think of anything to say. She didn't know how she could possibly apologise to Collard; words seemed so empty and insignificant.

Gregoire returned moments later with a large goblet of water. He passed it wordlessly to Collard, who murmured his thanks and took a long draught from the goblet, wiping the residue from his lips.

"No doubt you are in want of answers." He said, surveying the family. Gregoire nodded, as though afraid to speak.

"What you saw before you were transported here was Fiendfyre." Collard said. "It is Dark magic, difficult to control and harder to destroy. The wards I have placed on my cloak were able to protect me from the worst of the damage, for I wouldn't be here now otherwise. However, they exert a pull on my energy level to power them after the original magic they were imbued with runs out. To counteract the Fiendfyre, I needed to cancel out the power of the Dark magic that fuels it."

"How?" Apolline asked fearfully.

"By purging all the magical energy from my body." Collard replied. Fleur's hand flew to her mouth.

"So you can't do magic now?"

Collard shook his head.

"Oh no, I can still do magic. But to purge your core completely depletes your magical energy as well as a great deal of your bodily energy. The result is a massive eruption of magical energy. I am afraid your house may not be all in one piece anymore." he said, glancing at Gregoire, who waved his hand airily.

"That is the least of my concerns at the present. You've been in a comatose state for the last week or so; your well-being was my top priority."

"It shouldn't be, but I appreciate t all the same." Collard said. "The comatose state allowed my magical energy to recharge and heal my body."

"How?"

"How is not important. Purging your body of magical energy is incredibly dangerous, and I only used it as a last resort. I do not encourage you to try."

"How did you learn how to do that?" Fleur asked. "I highly doubt it's taught at any academy of magic."

"It isn't, but you are assuming that I had structured tuition in magic." Collard said, fixing her with a piercing gaze. "Everything I know about magic was discovered on my own."

Fleur stared at their bodyguard. She had learnt more about him in the past five minutes than she had since she had met him, but he still seemed as much of a mystery as ever. It was infuriating.

"When you woke up, you had a kind of fit." Apolline said questioningly. Collard nodded.

"My body had a great deal of pent up energy that needed to be released. It should have returned to an equilibrium by now." He picked up the goblet, taking another swig of water. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to have a word with Fleur. In private."

Fleur felt her stomach clench unpleasantly. She was sure she knew what Collard wanted to talk to her about. She watched as the rest of her family left the room, shutting the door behind them.

"Take a seat, Fleur."

Fleur slid silently into the seat she had been sat in before, her hands twisting nervously in front of her. For a long time, Collard simply stared at her, unmoving, unblinking. Fleur fidgeted under his penetrating gaze.

"You defied me, Fleur."

Fleur said nothing. She felt like a prisoner about to be interrogated. Which, she reasoned, she was.

"I gave you an order to remain with your family. Instead, you ignored that order. In leaving them and wandering into the battle, you needlessly placed yourself and your family in danger."

"I was worried about you..."

"Your job is not to worry about me; it is to let me worry about you." Hs eyes were cold and hard, staring straight into Fleur's eyes. It made her feel as though he were looking into her soul. "If I had died, your family would still have been safe. Instead, you ensured that you, too, would have died. Indeed, you nearly did."

Fleur's hand subconsciously raised itself to her throat.

"You also attempted to gain access to my belongings."

Fleur's stomach clenched again.

"How did you – "

"Not important." Collard interrupted. "Why?"

"I wanted to learn more about you." Even to her, the excuse seemed foolish.

"You could have simply asked me."

"But you always refuse to speak."

"I said you could ask me; I didn't say I'd answer."

Fleur dropped her gaze to her hands, still twisting in her lap.

"Greater witches and wizards than you have lost their lives trying to access my trunk. Would you risk your life, just to learn more about me?"

"No." she said, so quietly she was sure Collard wouldn't be able to hear.

"Given the circumstances, I would be quite within my rights to declare my contract with your family terminated." Fleur's mouth fell open in horror.

"You wouldn't!"

"Give me one good reason why I should continue to protect you."

Fleur was silent. She was sure that this was some kind of test, but she didn't know how. Several ideas came to her, but they all seemed selfish, foolish, or both. Collard waited patiently while she floundered. Finally, she came up with an answer.

"You shouldn't."

Collard nodded.

"You're right; I shouldn't." Fleur's heart seemed to drop to the pit of her navel. "However, I do have some sense of honour. I will continue to remain in your family's employ, but make no mistake; should you do anything so foolish again, I will terminate my contract immediately. And believe me, you don't want that."

With that, he stood and walked out of the room, quite steadily for someone not long out of a coma. Fleur was left sat in the chair, her heart racing. She found it incredible that a mere boy could make her feel about two years old. The least she could hope for was that he didn't tell her father what had transpired.

She sighed and rubbed her temples. The sooner Collard got to the bottom of the plot, the better.


	9. VOLUME ONE - A New Threat

**~Chapter Eight – A New Threat~**

Christophe Devereaux was a man easily angered, and seldom pleased. His cold, grey eyes held no emotion, instead appearing to be lifeless, staring orbs. He kept his appearance in impeccable condition, as in the world of French magical politics, appearances are everything. His vast fortune, gained through both lucrative business deals and other, less tasteful ventures, ensured that what he wanted, he got. But at the moment, what he wanted, he wasn't getting.

His several attempts on the life of the French Minister for Magic had so far ended in failure. The bodyguard he had hired was too good, too skilled, that the mercenaries he had sent after the family had proven no match. It was time to up the ante.

The woman sat across the desk from him was the second-best assassin he could find. The best was already under contract, so he had to settle. But the woman sat not three feet from him was no slouch by any stretch of the imagination. Her record was impressive. Innumerable high level assassinations, multiple successful missions against impossible odds, highly trained and incredibly lethal. She seemed perfect.

"Do you understand what is at stake here?" Devereaux asked. "My patience is running out, Astier."

The woman's lip curled slightly below the hood that currently cast her face in shadow.

"Then you should have come to me sooner."

"Maybe. But I am asking for your services now."

"You made the right decision. After Collard, I am the best."

Devereaux's brow furrowed slightly.

"You know of Collard?"

"We ran together for a couple of years. I met him when he was about fourteen."

"So you know his weaknesses?"

Astier laughed softly. It was a chilling sound.

"Weaknesses? He has no weaknesses, or at least, none that I could fathom."

"No man is infallible, Astier."

"Agreed."

"Would he remember you?"

Astier laughed again.

"Oh, I certainly expect so. I'm not easily forgotten, for _anything_."

Devereaux waited, but it seemed that no further explanation was forthcoming.

"Very well. You know what I'm asking. Draw him out, take him out, then take out the family."

"I don't need your plan. This is my job now."

Devereaux's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Until you are paid, you do it my way."

Astier remained silent, her gaze never leaving the man's face. It would be so easy for her to end this man's life right now, but he was her ticket to five thousand Galleons. She mentally shrugged. She could wait a few days.

"So you are asking me to kill someone I consider a friend?"

"Is that a problem?"

"No."

Devereaux smirked.

"There truly is no honour among thieves, is there?"

"There is honour when it is required."

Devereaux said nothing.

"If that will be all, I shall take my leave."

Devereaux nodded, gesturing toward the door. He watched as the assassin left, her movements graceful and fluid, almost like a dancer's. Maybe she would be the one to get the job done.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Harry was led on his bed, a small silver ball floating in the air a few feet from his face. As he concentrated his magic, the ball morphed, the perfect sphere twisting into a complicated and intricate pattern, the silver dying away, replaced by what appeared to be liquid fire. Another shift in concentration, and the silver sphere was formed again. He smiled to himself, snatching the ball out of the air and tossing it back into his trunk, shutting it with a wave of his hand.

Over the last few days, his magic had returned to him in small bursts, and only recently had he felt he had fully recovered. The rush he got from his newfound magical energy was euphoric, almost like a drug.

He sat up as he heard a knock on his door. Bidding the visitor welcome, he watched as Fleur slipped through the door into the room.

Fleur walked over to the bed, sitting down on the end. Harry said nothing, waiting for the French girl to speak.

"You said I could ask you if I wanted to know anything about you." she started uncertainly, as though afraid of crossing some unseen line. Harry nodded.

"I did."

Fleur took in a breath.

"Well, I was wondering... At your age, you should still be in school. You also said before that you've been doing mercenary jobs for years. So my question is... How did you learn how to use magic?"

Harry was silent for a long time, so long that Fleur wondered if she had overstepped her boundaries again. She was about to apologise when Harry spoke.

"I taught myself."

Fleur stared.

"How?"

"By experimenting."

"Experimenting? That's incredibly dangerous, especially if you have no prior magical instruction! You could have killed yourself!"

Harry shook his head.

"I grew up on the streets. I could have killed myself every day just by waking up."

"You grew up on the streets? What about your parents?"

Fleur saw the muscles in his face clench. It was almost frightening. She found it hard to believe that a child could have survived the streets alone, magic or no.

"Don't have any. They died when I was very young."

Fleur was sure she could feel her heart breaking. To lose your parents, and then have to fend for yourself on the streets? It was no wonder Collard kept his distance. She cupped his cheek with one of her hands, the one that bore the long scar.

"Collard, I''m so sorry..."

Harry shifted uncomfortably, but didn't bat her hand away.

"I don't remember them. Therefore, I don't miss them."

Fleur stared.

"Don't you want to be able to remember them?"

"No. It makes my job easier."

"How can you stand it? Being so detached all the time?"

Harry shrugged.

"I'm used to it."

Fleur gently rubbed her thumb absentmindedly across the scar on Harry's cheek.

"How did you get this?"

Harry raised his hand, knocking hers away.

"That is not something for you to concern yourself with."

Fleur dropped her hand, the hurt evident in her eyes, despite her attempts to cover it.

"It's not healthy to block the world out, Collard."

"That's my lot in life. I make the most of it."

Fleur leant forward and pressed a light kiss to Harry's cheek before standing up and walking back to the door.

"Just try to let someone in. You never know, you might be surprised."

With that, she left, snapping the door shut. Once outside, she fell back, leaning her body against the wall. Every time she made progress with Collard, he pushed her away again at the last moment.

She wasn't foolish enough to believe that she could pull him out of the life he had created for himself. He was far too ingrained in it for that. But she could at least help him, help him to see that the entire wasn't out for his blood.

She shook her head slightly. These thoughts were what had caused her to obsess over the young bodyguard before. She wouldn't let herself fall into that trap again.

Back in the room, Harry rubbed at his cheek. He knew exactly what Fleur had been trying to do. Her intentions were all too clear. There seemed to be no convincing the girl that he blocked them out for their protection.

A light pulsing emanating from the Contact Mirror propped against the dresser on the far wall caught his attention.

_That should be Mouse_.

When he had first woken, he had asked Mouse to find out as much on Christophe Devereaux as he could. He was sure that with Mouse's extensive list of contacts, he would have something.

Rolling deftly off of the bed and making his way over, he sat himself in the chair and waved his hand across the surface of the mirror. He waited as Mouse's face swam into view. The man seemed to be sweating profusely, but Harry paid it little mind.

"What do you have, Mouse?"

The man in the mirror wiped a hand over his forehead, wiping away a light sheen of sweat.

"Devereaux has set up a meeting with various prominent members of the criminal underground in France. They are meeting this Tuesday."

"That's in two days." Harry mused. "Where is this meeting taking place?"

"Paris, at the Chevalier House."

Harry had to suppress a snort. It was ironic that a meeting of criminals should take place in the meeting place of those celebrated for their chivalry.

"Is this information accurate, Mouse? I can't afford any more delays. The longer we wait, the more likely it is that someone else will make an attempt on the Minister's life."

Mouse nodded, a little too frantically.

"Yes, yes, it's very accurate."

Harry narrowed his eyes slightly.

"What has you so on edge, Mouse?"

"Nothing!" Mouse responded, a little too quickly for Harry's liking.

"Don't lie to me, Mouse."

"I-It is of no concern to you."

"You are my most trusted informant. If it affects my work, it concerns me."

"It won't affect your work."

"I hope not."

Mouse wiped his brow again, his eyes wide.

"If that will be all, Collard..."

Harry nodded, severing the connection and heading back to the bed, settling himself back down. He decided to ask Gregoire about Devereaux later. If he was meeting with the most infamous of the French criminal underworld, it would spell trouble for the French Minister of Magic.

He shifted on the bed slightly, his thoughts returning to Mouse. The man definitely seemed worried, but about what, Harry couldn't begin to fathom. Mouse was the closest thing he had to a friend, and never had Harry seen him in the state he was in moments ago. He pushed it to the back of his mind, making a mental note to investigate when his contract was up.

-x-x-x-x-x-

As the connection dropped, Mouse twisted slightly, staring fearfully into the shadows.

"There, he'll investigate the meeting. Are you satisfied, Astier?"

A laugh emanated from the shadows as the woman stepped into the light, her hood now down. Her hair was crimson, and hung just past her shoulders. Her eyes were like sapphires, and like Collard's, seemed to burn with a life of their own. A small smirk seemed to constantly grace her lips, and when she spoke, her voice commanded attention and respect.

"I am."

Mouse heaved a great sigh of relief.

"So, you'll be taking your leave now, then?"

"Oh, of course."

Mouse watched as she strode confidently over to the door. When she reached it, however, she turned, a wand in her left hand.

"I almost forgot, I can't have you telling our friend about this." She raised the wand, directing it at Mouse. "_Obliviate_!"

Moue tried to duck out of the path of the jet of blue light that hurtled through the air toward him, but he was too slow. The spell struck him in the chest and he was thrown across the room, slamming against the wall and sliding to the floor, unconscious. Smirking slightly, Astier spun on her heel and left the small room, closing the door behind her. The trap was set. All she had to do now was spring the trap.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Later that evening, Harry found Gregoire in the living room, surrounded by his family. Standing at the door, he cleared his throat, capturing the family's attention.

"Monsieur Delacour? May I have a word?" He looked around the room. "In private?"

"Of course." Gregoire said, pushing himself up from the sofa and walking quickly over to the door, brushing lightly past Harry as he slipped through. He waited as Harry pulled the door shut and waved his hand over the door before turning to the French Minister.

" have a lead on the person culpable to the attacks on your family, a Monsieur Christophe Devereaux." He saw Gregoire's eyes widen slightly. "Ah. You know the name."

"That son of a bitch," Gregoire growled softly. "I should've known."

"What can you tell me of him?" Harry pressed.

"He was my opponent in the last election. He wasn't happy that I won. He's very much in favour of a purely wizarding society, and my being married to a half-Veela flies directly in the face of that. He gave many verbal assaults during the campaign, but I never thought he would be capable of orchestrating a plot to take me out of the picture completely."

Harry nodded. _An obvious motive._

"He is meeting with various members of the criminal underworld Tuesday. I shall also be present, not that he'll know it. If I get a clear shot, I'll take him out. If not, I have another lead that I could follow. At the moment, though, this seems to be my best bet."

Gregoire's shoulders visibly slumped with relief.

"So it's almost over?"

"Almost."

Gregoire placed his hand on Harry's shoulder, gripping slightly.

"I can't thank you enough, Collard."

"Don't thank me yet."

Gregoire smiled.

"I have complete faith in you, Collard. You won't let us down."


	10. VOLUME ONE - Chevalier House

**~Chapter Nine – Chevalier House~**

Chevalier House was a grand building situated on the boulevard Saint-Germain, created in 1674 by powerful French witches and wizards as a safe haven and meeting place for the Magical Order of Chivalry. Thanks to its powerful ward net, the building was invisible to Muggles, who would see only a rundown old building that was scheduled for demolition. The building itself was formed of huge blocks of hewn stone, with tall windows dotted along the walls. The doors were made from solid oak and were adorned with solid brass handles. The house was designed to be a fortress, and that was certainly the impression it gave off.

Harry Potter saw none of this. His eyes were raking across every inch of the building, his cloak pulled tightly around him to ward off the slight October chill in the air. Reaching up, he pushed a stray strand of hair away from his eyes. As he surveyed the building, he became aware of a person standing next to him, also looking up at the building.

"An incredible feat of architecture, wouldn't you say?" the person asked, the voice distinctly female. Harry didn't turn his head, but he was sure he had heard the voice somewhere before. Tensing his body, ready for the slightest hint of malice from the stranger, he nodded.

"It is at that."

"Are you simply here to admire the architecture, or are you trying to find a way in?"

This caught Harry's attention. He turned his head to appraise the stranger for the first time.

The stranger was indeed a woman. Her clothing fit tightly against her frame, accentuating her figure. A hood cast much of her face in shadow, but Harry was in no doubt as to who the woman was.

"Astier?" he asked, trying to keep the surprise out of his voice. The woman smiled.

"It's good to see you again, Collard." She pulled her hood down, and Harry was able to see the face of his old partner. She was almost exactly how he remembered her, although a few new scars were clearly visible.

"What are you doing here?"

"Mouse got in contact with me; he thought you could use a hand on this one."

Harry's brow furrowed slightly.

"How would he know?"

Astier shrugged.

"I guess he must have assumed. I can leave if you want?"

Harry considered for a moment. He hadn't asked for help with this mission, but the extra pair of eyes couldn't hurt.

"No, stay. You can never be too careful."

A ghost of a smile flickered across Astier's face.

"Your choice." Her eyes flicked back to the building in front of them. "Is this the place?"

Harry nodded.

"According to Mouse."

"So what are you waiting for?" Astier asked.

"I need to work out how to get in." Harry said, his eyes flicking over the building again. "The ward net is too powerful for a full on breach."

Astier's smile widened.

"It's just as well I'm here, then, isn't it?"

Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him up to the door. Pulling her wand out, she tapped the middle of one of the handles twice. There was a click, and the door swung open.

"After you." she said, gesturing for Harry to go in before her. Flicking his wrist to release his wand, he held it in a ready position and ventured inside.

"How did you know how to open the door?" Harry asked, as Astier closed the door behind them.

"I had a job here once." she said offhandedly, looking around, her wand still raised. Harry's eyes narrowed.

"You never mentioned it before."

"It never came up."

A small voice in the back of Harry's mind was nagging at him that something was off about the whole situation, but he brushed it aside. The mission came first; everything else was secondary. He could investigate these new circumstances later. Breathing in, he cast his gaze around the house.

The house was very typically French in its design. White marble was everywhere, and the doors that led off to various rooms were made of the finest wood money could buy. The staircase at the far end of the entrance hall curved gracefully up and around to the next floor. Harry cast another quick glance at Astier, but she seemed rather absorbed in the hilt of her wand. Raising his, he pointed it into the middle of the room.

"_Homenum Revelio_!"

Several shadows flew down the stairs and toward him. Hissing at Astier, he pointed to the staircase.

"Upstairs." he mouthed. Astier nodded and moved to the staircase, taking the stairs two at a time, but making no noise, almost cat-like in her movements. Harry followed, his wand still held ready for an ambush.

They came out in a long hallway, with doors down each side, interspersed with portraits of old witches and wizards, who Harry assumed were ex-members of the Order. He motioned to Astier, who nodded and set off down the corridor, listening intently for the sound of voices.

About a third of the way down the corridor, Astier pulled up short, and only Harry's excellent reflexes stopped him from crashing into her. Beckoning him down, she pressed her ear against the door. Mirroring her actions, Harry pressed his own ear against the door and listened. Sure enough, the muffled sound of voices could just about be heard. Standing up, he glanced to the next door. Motioning to Astier, he pushed the door open and walked in to what appeared to be a rather spacious bathroom. Looking up on the wall, he could just make out a vent fluttering lightly.

Pointing his wand at the vent, he fired a spell and the vent fell from the wall, leaving a small hole. Harry dashed forward and caught it before it hit the floor and gave away their presence. Settling it on the floor in the opposite corner, he put his foot on the sink, testing his weight before pushing himself up completely, bringing himself closer to the hole in the wall. Astier stood by the door, keeping an eye out for anyone heading their way.

The voices were a little clearer now, enough that Harry could just about hear what they were saying.

"...getting impatient now, Devereaux. You said Delacour would be out of the picture by now."

"His days are numbered now. He will no longer walk the earth by the end of the week."

"And you are sure of that, are you?"

"I am."

Harry frowned. It sounded like this Devereaux character was sending someone else to try and take out the Delacours, someone trained. He would have to be even more on guard now.

"And when he is gone?"

"I will take over as Minister for Magic, and the laws that we have agreed on will be passed. France will once again be a place where the purity of blood is given utmost importance. There will be no more half-breeds."

Harry more sensed the spell before he saw and heard it. He dove off the sink as the jet of green light smashed into the wall he had been pressed up against mere moments previously. He whipped his head around to see Astier advancing on him, wand pointed straight at his head. He rolled away as another jet of light left the end of her wand, scrambling to his feet and returning fire as he did so. Astier whipped her wand through the air, deflecting the spell and sending it crashing into the ceiling, causing small flecks of plaster to rain down on them.

Harry let out a short laugh.

"I should have known, Astier. You never were the honest type."

Astier twirled her wand, scrutinising Harry closely.

"Your reflexes have got better, Collard."

"Cut the crap, Astier. Who hired you?"

Astier jerked her head toward the wall.

"Devereaux?"

She nodded. Harry let out another laugh.

"And he sent you to kill Delacour?"

"No, just you."

Harry tensed, ready to deflect another incoming spell. What he wasn't expecting was for Astier to sheath her wand and rush toward him. He loosed a spell, but Astier ducked around it, grabbing his wrist and twisting it sharply. Harry gasped in pain as he dropped his wand. It rolled across the bathroom, coming to a rest just by the sink. Astier kept her grip on his wrist as her fist flew toward his face. He ducked beneath the blow, but was met by her knee crashing into his stomach. He felt the air rush from his lungs as she pushed him away.

Harry had not been counting on having to fight Muggle-style. He had survived thanks to his magic, and as such, he had never felt the need to learn to defend himself in a hand-to-hand situation. He was sincerely regretting that right now.

The side of Astier's foot collided painfully with his stomach, knocking the last of the air from his lungs as he collapsed to the floor. Astier stood over him, an unreadable expression on his face.

"I must say, Collard, I'm disappointed. I expected better."

Harry lashed out with his leg, kicking her left knee out from underneath her. She fell to one knee with a cry of surprise, and Harry took the moment to try to get back to his wand, but Astier reached out and grabbed his ankle in a vice-like grip, causing him to fall flat, his face colliding painfully with the marble floor.

Astier got to her feet, advancing on Harry once again. Summoning what strength he could, ignoring the pain in his ribs and face, Harry rolled to the side, grabbing his wand and climbing to his feet, facing Astier. Astier smiled coldly.

"Very well; we'll do this your way."

She unsheathed her wand, pointing it straight at Harry, her eyes blazing. Harry met her gaze evenly, watching her for the slightest muscle twitch.

There. Harry jumped the the side as a spell shot from Astier's wand, sidestepping it neatly and returning a Cutting Curse. Astier knocked it lazily to the side and began circling Harry, much like a lion would with it's prey.

Harry fired off an Acid Blood Curse, but Astier ducked under it. They continued circling, neither one taking their eyes of the other.

"I have to admit, I'll miss you, Collard." Astier said, continuing her predatory stalking. "You were always a good lay."

Harry said nothing, choosing instead to fire another curse toward the woman. This one grazed past her cheek. She smiled.

"You're getting closer."

She retaliated with a Bone Breaking Hex. Harry spun, catching the hex on his claok, allowing the runes to absorb the energy. Continuing through the full 360 degrees, he fired a Killing Curse, which was dodged by Astier, who sent a raging cone of fire. Harry fired a stream of water into the fire, creating a struggle of wills, of who could last the longest.

Astier caved first. Breaking off the steady stream of fire, she fired a Stunning Spell at Harry. Harry batted the spell aside, sending it streaking toward the sink, which exploded in a shower of water, drenching the two combatants almost immediately. Harry ducked as yet another curse streaked toward his head. In retaliation, he waved his wand, gathering the water on the floor into a cocoon around Astier. He smiled as he saw Astier trying to escape her watery prison. Pointing his wand at the orb of water, he muttered a Boiling Charm, watching in satisfaction as Astier's eyes widened as the the cocoon of water began to bubble.

Astier slashed with her wand, causing the water orb to burst outwards, the boiling water flying in every direction. Quickly, Harry conjured a solid wall and ducked behind it; a Shield Charm wouldn't protect him against water.

He was thrown backwards as the wall exploded. He instinctively rolled and scrambled back to a vertical base, dodging another Killing Curse, as the tiles next to him exploded in a shower of marble. He looked over at Astier. The woman was breathing heavily, her sking slightly red from the scalding heat of the water.

"Give up, Astier. You can't beat me."

Astier grinned menacingly.

"I beg to disagree."

She sent another Killing Curse at Harry, who ducked underneath the jet of light and fired off a Bone Breaking Hex. This time, the hex made contact. Astier screamed in pain as her leg gave out underneath her, sending her crashing to the ground. Harry rushed forward, kicking the wand out of her hand and away across the bathroom. She looked up at him, and Harry was slightly taken aback at the laughter in her eyes.

"You really think you can beat me that easily?"

Harry was blasted off his feet as Astier produced a second wand, firing a Killing Curse that barely missed Harry as he dove to the side. Harry winced as he sat up, before rolling again to avoid yet another curse.

_When did she get a second wand?_

Harry had little time to dwell on that revelation though. He dodged another curse and twisted the ring on his finger, pointing the stone inwards toward his palm. It didn't look as though he would be able to remove Astier from the equation just yet. He fired one last curse toward the woman he had considered a friend for two years before pressing his finger to the stone and vanishing from the house.


	11. VOLUME ONE - Compromised

**~Chapter Ten – Compromised~**

Astier grunted in pain as she forced her leg back straight, feeling the bones grating against each other. Pointing her wand at her leg, she muttered a quick Healing Spell through gritted teeth, groaning in pain again as the bones fused back together.

The door to the bathroom opened as Astier stood up, testing her balance and her weight on her leg. She raised her wand, but lowered it again as Devereaux walked in. He cast his eyes around the room, taking in the destruction around him.

"What the hell happened, Astier?" he asked. His voice was calm, but Astier could detect a strong undercurrent of fury in his voice.

"Collard happened. I tried to catch him off-guard, but it didn't work. He got away." she said, forcing herself to meet Devereaux's furious gaze.

The man breathed out deeply before speaking.

"Fine. Forget about Collard. Go straight for the family."

"He'll have them holed up in a safe house somewhere. I don't know where they are."

"Surely you know someone who will?"

Astier thought for a moment. She was well aware of how secretive Collard was. In his world, he could afford to trust no one. But there was one person who might know. The one person that Collard came as close to trusting as he dared.

"I think I do."

Devereaux nodded.

"Good. Then get to it. And don't fail me again."

Astier bowed her head.

"I won't."

-x-x-x-x-x-

Harry crouched down in the shadows, running his wand across the various cuts and bruises adorning his body, healing them as he surveyed the manor.

Devereaux Manor was nowhere near as grandiose as Delacour Manor, but it was still impressive to behold. The sweeping lawns were neat and luscious, ornamented by trees along a wide footpath which led up to the main doors. The high, arched windows reflected the noonday sun, casting spots of light on the ground. The stonework looked almost brand-new and very well-kept. Clearly, the man who resided there was very particular and ordered.

Harry cast his eyes around the perimeter of the manor, searching for an entrance. The front doors seemed to be the easiest option, but he was in no doubt that it would be guarded. The windows would also seem like an obvious target. Flicking his wand toward the manor, he muttered a few spells designed to detect wards of any kind. His brow furrowed in confusion. He would have thought that a man like Devereaux would have every available protection surrounding his house. The man was clearly either very confident, or very stupid.

As he watched, two people came round the corner of the house, wands out, eyes scanning the grounds.

_Personal guards._

That explained the lack of wards. Having people patrol the outside of the property meant that any threat would be dealt with easily. In Harry's opinion, however, that still seemed to be a strange decision on the part of Devereaux. For him, at least, the patrols would prove little challenge.

Raising his wand, Harry twirled it around his body, as though he were wrapping himself in a length of rope. As he looked down, he could see his body slowly start to disappear. Conjuring a small mirror, he looked into it, but could see no reflection. Satisfied, he Vanished the mirror and proceeded carefully onto the grounds.

The path was made of a mixture of brick and stone, materials that would make a loud clicking sound were he to walk too fast. Therefore, he proceeded slowly, careful not to nudge any tree branches as he passed. The Disillusionment Charm would not make him any less solid, or do anything to mute any noise he made as he moved. He kept his wand clutched tightly in his hand, ready to be used at a moment's notice.

He steadily approached the two people patrolling the grounds, a man and a woman, both holding their wands in a ready position. It seemed that Devereaux had invested a good deal in his security; these were definitely not the amateurs Harry had dealt with before. Raising his wand, he pointed it at the back of the woman.

"_Imperio_!"

The woman's eyes glazed over momentarily before clearing again. She continued walking for a few paces before stopping dead. Her partner, not expecting the sudden stop, walked further on before pulling up short and turning.

"What? Did you see something?"

The woman sad nothing. Instead, she raised her wand, pointing it directly at the man's chest.

"What are you doing?"

No response. The man raised his wand uncertainly. He knew his orders, but something wasn't right here.

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

The man's eyes widened as the jet of green light flew toward him. His wand was held up uselessly, his mouth open in shock. He crumpled into a heap on the floor as the light hit him square in the chest.

Harry smirked and reached out with his mind, forcing his way into the woman's memories, looking for a back entrance to the manor. A rush of images filled his mind, flashing one after the other in a seemingly endless torrent. Finally, an image swam to the forefront of the woman's mind. A tunnel, leading from the kitchens out into the forest about 500 yards away. Withdrawing himself from the woman's mind, he released his curse's hold on her. The woman shook her head a few times, as though trying to clear her head before looking down at the body of her partner, still lying on the ground. Immediately, her wand was up and she span round, looking around for the killer. Raising his wand, Harry fired a Killing Curse of his own, moving forward and catching the woman in his arms before she hit the ground, laying her down gently. Standing up again, he waved his wand over the bodies, Vanishing them. Satisfied, he turned on his heel and headed for the stretch of forest that contained the exit of the secret passage.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Mouse sat slouched in a chair at his hidey-hole, a glass of Firewhiskey in his hand, swirling the contents as he reflected.

In his younger years, he had never thought he would have ended up where he was now. He had dreamed of working in the French Auror Corps, and yet here he was, a lowly informant to mercenaries, assassins and other less than savoury individuals.

The door to the room flew open, interrupting Mouse's train of thought. Sitting up slightly, he turned his head to regard his unexpected visitor.

"Astier! This is a surprise!"

Astier smiled as she entered the room, closing the door behind her. Mouse noticed that she seemed to be favouring her left leg.

"It's good to see you too, Mouse."

"Well, take a seat. What can I help you with?"

Astier merely shook her head at the proffered seat, choosing instead to remain standing.

"I need information."

"On who?"

"Collard."

Mouse's eyes widened.

"You used to work with Collard, what information could I possibly have that you would find useful that you didn't already know?"

Astier's eyes flashed dangerously.

"I need to know where he has the Delacours holed up."

Mouse nearly fell backward off the chair at that request.

"I'm afraid I can't give you that information."

"And why is that?" Astier said, advancing on Mouse slowly. Mouse gulped.

"Collard came to me for his mission first. I cannot give out information that would compromise his work."

Astier nodded, as though she had expected this answer.

"Well, we'll have to come to another arrangement then, won't we?" she said, drawing one of her wands slowly and methodically. Mouse tried to swallow as he watched the wand, but his throat suddenly seemed very dry. He took a sip of Firewhiskey, but it seemed to make no difference.

Astier suddenly lunged forward, jabbing with her wand. Mouse really did fall backward this time, but something caught him halfway to the floor, keeping the chair and himself held at a forty-five degree angle. Stepping forward, Astier pulled a vicious-looking knife from her pocket, hovering it dangerously close to his groin. Mouse tried to bat her hand away, but found his limbs locked in place.

_Some kind of Stasis Charm_, he thought in panic. Apart from his head, he couldn't move; he was completely at Astier's mercy. He tried to struggle against the invisible bonds as Astier leaned in close to his ear.

"Would you like to reconsider that?" she whispered huskily. Mouse was doing his best to keep his eyes on the knife, but the scent of the French woman so close to him was very distracting.

"No, I won't betray Collard."

Astier sighed and pulled her head away, though she kept the knife where it was. Mouse was now sweating profusely, small beads of sweat were running into his eyes, causing his eyes to burn. He blinked furiously, trying to rid himself of the burning sensation, but all he succeeded in doing was causing his eyes to water. Flicking his eyes to Astier, he could see the woman was now smiling cruelly.

The next thing he knew, his head exploded with pain. It felt as though thousands of flaming daggers were being pushed roughy through his skull. He could hear a distant, cruel laugh, and realised with horror what he was experiencing. Astier was sifting through his mind, determined to extract the information through force. He tried to focus his mind and force her out, but she was already in too deep, and the searing pain was doing little to help matters.

After what felt like an age, he felt Astier withdraw from his mind, leaving a pounding headache in her wake.

"Thank you very much, Mouse."

The last thing he saw was a jet of green light flying through the air toward him.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Fleur clasped her hands nervously, twisting them back and forth in her lap. Gregoire noticed this and walked over to the sofa, sitting himself down next to his eldest daughter.

"Something troubling you, Fleur?"

Fleur shook her head, continuing to fidget.

"It's nothing, I - "

"Fleur." Gregoire said seriously, pulling her around to face him. "I know when something is bothering you."

Fleur took in a breath.

"It's Collard."

Gregoire sighed. _I thought we were past this._

"What about him?" Gregoire asked carefully, watching his daughter's face closely.

Fleur shrugged.

"I just have this feeling, that something – bad – is going to happen."

"To him?"

"I don't know, maybe."

Gregoire breathed in deeply.

"What brought this on?"

"I don't know." Fleur said, feeling more foolish by the minute. "Just call it gut instinct."

"All he was doing was going to spy on a meeting. He's been in worse situations than this during his time with us, let alone the rest of his life."

Fleur nodded.

"I know, I just can't help being a bit worried about him."

"We all do, sweetheart. Personally, I think he's far too young to be mixed up in the world that he is, but that's the hand that life has dealt him, and spending all our time worrying about him isn't going to change that."

There was a low booming sound in the distance, so quiet that Fleur barely registered it. Gregoire, however, sat bolt upright.

"What was that?"

"Maybe it was Muggles letting off fireworks?" Fleur suggested, hoping against hope that it wasn't what she thought it was. She remembered Collard telling her that only those who knew about the safe house could find it, and she took small comfort in that.

"It didn't sound like fireworks." Gregoire said, standing up and drawing his wand.

Another boom sounded, closer this time. Then another. And another. The last one rattled the torches in their brackets, the flames flickering violently. Fleur rose to her feet, pulling her wand from her pocket, thankful that she hadn't decided to leave it in her room.

_BOOM_

"Fleur, go and find your mother and sister." Gregoire said, eying the door warily.

_BOOM_

"Why?"

_BOOM_

"Just do it, Fleur!" Gregoire said, his grip tightening on his wand.

_BOOM_

Fleur hesitated for only a moment before nodding and hurrying out of the room. Gregoire took a steadying breath and stepped out into the entrance of the safe house.

_BOOM_

The blast shook the house, causing Fleur to trip as she entered the bedroom where her mother and sister were currently sat, Apolline attempting to teach her daughter a basic Levitation Charm.

"Fleur?" Apolline said, immediately noting the look of worry on her daughter's face. "Fleur, what's wrong?"

_BOOM_

"I think we've been found."

-x-x-x-x-x-

_BOOM_

This time, the door flew off its hinges, sailing into the house, missing Gregoire by inches.

"_Petrificus Totalus_!"

Gregoire tried to get his wand up to block the curse, but he was too slow. His limbs snapped together and he toppled backwards, landing hard on the unforgiving wood floor. From his severely limited angle, he could just make out a person striding into the house and over to him.

"Good evening, Monsieur Delacour." the woman smiled. Kneeling down beside him, she pulled his wand out of his hand, snapping it cleanly in two, tossing the pieces aside carelessly. Gregoire heard them clatter to the floor and roll away. Fear was now eating at his insides. Fear not just for his own life, but the lives of his family as well.

"If you'll excuse me," the woman said, her features twisting into a cruel smile. "I must go and fetch your family. I wouldn't want them to feel left out."

Turning on her heel, she strode further into the house, leaving Gregoire motionless and helpless on the floor. He could only hope that Collard was being made aware of the events.

-x-x-x-x-x-

After nearly half an hour of rummaging through the brush, Harry was ready to forget about sneaking into the manor and going for a full out frontal assault instead. Pointing his wand at a thicket of nettles, he loosed a simple Incendiary Charm toward the plant, relishing in the sight of the bush burning, the leaves wilting and snapping under their own weight.

_There._

Just beneath the nettles was a silvery handle. Extinguishing the flames with a flick of his wand, he knelt down to examine the handle closer.

Brushing the charred remains of the plant away, he discovered that the handle was connected to a metal door, covered by a layer of muck, dead plant matter and small insects. Harry cast another spell at the metal door, and the muck covering it disappeared, leaving the door shimmering in the faint light filtering through the trees.

Kneeling down, Harry gripped the handle and pulled. The door swung open easily, clearly not locked from the other side.

_Very confident or very stupid_.

Lighting the tip of his wand, Harry carefully ventured down into the earth, wand raised, ready to defend himself at a moment's notice.

The air in the tunnel was thick with moisture. Each breath felt like trying to breath soup. Raising his wand, Harry cast a Bubble-Head Charm, allowing him to breath slightly easier in the dank and dark.

The tunnel itself was very narrow and cramped. Fighting in such an enclosed space would be very difficult, and Harry found himself hoping that he wouldn't run into anyone in the tunnel.

The tunnel seemed to stretch for an eternity. Harry walked and walked, but the end of the tunnel was nowhere in sight. The small pocket of light at the start had quickly disappeared, leaving Harry with only the light of his wand, which seemed futile in the crushing darkness.

He started as he felt a pulsing coming from his hand. Hovering his wand over his hand, he could see the stone of his ring pulsing with a small light.

_No, surely not..._

He didn't take any time to think. The manor could wait. He had a job to do. He extinguished his wand and tapped the stone with his wand, vanishing from the tunnel.

-x-x-x-x-x-

The footsteps were getting closer. Fleur was sure of it. Light, but purposeful. Her grip on her wand tightened, pushing her mother and sister behind her in an effort to protect them from the intruder.

"_Bombarda_!"

Fleur raised her arm to protect herself from the shower of splinters from the remains of the door. Pointing her wand into the cloud of wood, she fired a Stunning Spell. There was no reply, but the bolt of red light was sent careening into the opposite wall. Desperately, Fleur fired another, along with a Disarming Charm. These, too, were deflected.

As the cloud of splinters settled, the form of a woman appeared, a wand held loosely at her side. Fleur was slightly taken aback. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting, but it certainly wasn't a woman. First mistake. She loosened her grip on her wand. Second mistake.

"_Expelliarmus_!"

Fleur gave a cry of surprise as her wand flew out of her hand. She gave another cry as two more wands sailed past her head, those of her mother's and sister's.

_How did she Disarm all three of us with one spell?_

The woman snatched the wands out of the air deftly. Holding them together, she brought them down hard over her thigh, snapping them in two. Fleur winced as she saw her wand snap cleanly in two. Gabrielle gave a small sob as her wand met the same fate.

"I'm so glad you three are altogether." the woman said, dropping the pieces of wood and advancing into the room, raising her wand, pointing it at Fleur, who threw her arms back, trying to block her mother and sister from view. "It makes this so much easier."

"What do you want from us?" Apolline asked, her voice trembling. The woman laughed.

"It is not what _I_ want, but what Monsieur Devereaux wants." She twisted her wand slightly. "_Incarcerous_!"

Thick black ropes shot from the end of her wand, encircling the three Delacour women, binding them together tightly. Fleur struggled against the bonds, but to no avail.

Flicking her wand again, the woman levitated them off the ground and directed them out of the room, not paying much attention to whether they bounced off the walls or not.

When they reached the foyer, the woman dumped them rather unceremoniously on the floor next to Gregoire. Apolline let out a cry of despair as she saw her husband, unable to move, on the floor.

Reaching into her pocket, the woman pulled out a shorter length of rope, tying it first around Gregoire's wrist, and then to the end of the rope binding the rest of the family together. When she was done, she straightened up, a cold, cruel smirk plastered on her face.

"Give my regards to Monsieur Devereaux." she said, pointing her wand at the short length of rope. Fleur screwed her eyes tight shut, blocking the world out, when a cry of surprise forced her to open her eyes again. What she saw made her heart soar.

Collard was standing between the woman and the family, his wand directed at her head, his eyes burning into hers.

"Up and about already, Astier?" Collard asked, his expression unreadable.


	12. VOLUME ONE - No Remorse, No Regret

**~Chapter Eleven – No Remorse, No Regret~**

No remorse. No regret. That had been Harry's mantra throughout his life, drilled into him by his own experiences. It was short, it was simple, it was easy to remember.

Remorse was dangerous. To show remorse was to show weakness. To show weakness made you look vulnerable. And to look vulnerable made you a target, it made you prey. Harry was not prey; he was a predator.

Regret. Regret is a dangerous thing to feel. To regret something makes you second guess your actions. It makes you live your life forever asking _what if_? So Harry had squared off regret. His past was buried, and not something he had any intention to rediscover.

Standing in front of Astier, Harry truly understood what those words meant. In the Chevalier House, he had not intended to kill Astier; he was simply defending himself. But subduing the young woman was now no longer an option. She was a threat to his contract, so she had to be removed from the equation. He could not allow his past experiences with her stand in the way. No remorse. No regret.

"Up and about already, Astier?" Harry asked, his face giving nothing away.

Astier simply smiled.

"You should have killed me when you had the chance, Collard."

"It was not necessary at the time."

"And now?"

No remorse. No regret.

"Now, it is."

Astier threw herself to the side as Harry's arm whipped up, a jet of green light shooting from the end of his wand. It sailed past her, impacting against the wall with a _boom_. Ponting her own wand at Collard, Astier cried "_Confringo_!"

The floor at Harry's feet exploded in a shower of splinters, throwing Harry off balance. He could hear Gabrielle screaming, but the noise was distant, detached, peripheral from his concentration. There was only him and Astier, locked in a dance of death.

Another Killing Curse flew just inches from Astier's head, her hair whipping around her face as she span to avoid it. Aiming her wand, she aimed a Severing Charm at Harry, intending to rent his throat open. Harry span, attempting to block the spell with his cloak, but he was too slow. He roared in pain as a long gash opened up on his arm, staining his shirt with blood.

Waving his hand over the wound, Harry staunched the bleeding, looking around desperately to see where Astier had got to.

He saw her, only ten feet away, her wand directed at the bound and helpless Delacours, muttering an incantation.

"NO!"

He threw up a Shield Charm between Astier and the family, but he was too late. There was a flash of light, and the family were gone.

Astier smiled coldly before sending a Killing Curse at Harry, who ducked underneath it, sending a Killing Curse of his own in retaliation.

"Where are they?!"

Astier continued to smile as she began circling.

"Oh, come now, Collard. You know I can't tell you that."

Harry snarled. He could feel the ring on his finger pulsing, but he couldn't leave, not while Astier was still a threat.

"_Incarcerous_!"

Not expecting the sudden change in tactic, Astier gave a cry of surprise as long, black ropes encircled her legs. She toppled forward, her face colliding with the floor with a sickening _crack_. Harry smiled in satisfaction.

"_Expelliarmus_!"

Unable to defend herself from her position on the floor, Astier's wand flew out of her grip, falling to the ground with a clatter several feet away. Not taking any chances this time, Harry cast a Summoning Charm, pulling the other wand from within the folds of Astier's cloak. Catching it out of the air, Harry cast a look of disgust at the wand, before tossing it aside. Walking forward, Harry extended his right foot and flipped Astier over, noticing with a grim satisfaction the blood that was pouring freely down her face.

"I must say, Astier, I'm disappointed. I expected better." he said mockingly, echoing her words from their earlier duel. Astier didn't respond. Instead, her hand shot out, snake-like, gripping his ankle and wrenching it forward. Harry threw out an arm to break his fall as he fell backward, Astier maintaining her vice-like grip on his ankle.

"_Relashio_!"

Astier released his ankle with a cry of pain. Scrambling to his feet, Harry directed his wand at her head as Astier rubbed her arm, where a large red welt was starting to form. No remorse. No regret.

"So, Astier, are you ready to talk?"

-x-x-x-x-x-

The room Fleur found herself in was even more spartanly decorated than Collard's safe house. There was no furniture to speak of, other than a small, wooden chair in a shadowy corner. The walls were bare brick and the only light came from a small flickering electric light bulb dangling from the centre of the ceiling. Wherever they were, it was definitely Muggle.

Fleur had been so absorbed in her surroundings that she hadn't noticed that her father was slowly making his way to his feet and the ropes binding her to her mother and sister were gone. She carefully made her way to her feet, dusting her clothes off, looking around at her family.

Gregoire was trying to stretch some of the stiffness out of his limbs, while Apolline was clutching Gabrielle close to her, stroking the younger girl's hair comfortingly. Fleur wrapped her arms around herself, trying to ward off the worst of the chill of the room.

"Where are we?" Fleur asked.

"I'll be damned if I know."

Fleur spun around as the sound of the door opening caught her attention. She took a step back as four men walked in, each holding his wand out in front of him, each one directed at a different Delacour.

"Who are you?" Gregoire demanded as he took a few steps forward, putting himself between the men and his family.

The men didn't answer. They continued forward, their grips on their wands tightening slightly.

"Who are you?"

No answer.

"I demand that you tell me who - "

His sentence was cut off as one of the men flicked his wand. Fleur watched in horror as Gregoire was thrown backward before jerking to a sudden stop, his arms and legs trapped by some kind of Stasis Charm in a spread eagled manner.

Fleur gave a cry as she, too, was subjected to the same treatment as her father. Trapped, unable to move save her head, the chill of the room quickly made itself apparent to her. Turning her head to either side, she could see her mother immobilised between her and her father, and Gabrielle trapped on her other side. They were completely helpless.

The sound of footsteps caught her attention. Through the door strode a man dressed in an immaculate suit, his hair neatly parted and his shoes shined to the point that they reflected even the light of the flickering light bulb. She heard her father's breath hitch.

"Devereaux."

The man, who Fleur assumed was Devereaux, nodded, clapping his hands together slowly, mockingly.

"It is indeed. Nice to see you're still observant. Not that that will help you now." His voice was soft, yet dangerous at the same time. It spoke of a man who would stop at nothing to get his way. Including murder.

Devereaux motioned to the men, who dropped their wands, though the charms binding them in place remained in effect.

"You're making a mistake here, Devereaux. You've gone too far this time."

"Actually, I beg to differ." An arrogant smirk was starting to form on his face. Fleur decided in that moment that this was a man she would not get on with in any circumstances.

"How so?" Fleur had to admire her father's calmness, despite his situation. She was honestly surprised that they couldn't hear her heart hammering against her ribcage. Gabrielle let out a small sniffle, but made no other noise.

"If I had gone too far, you would all already be dead."

"It doesn't matter." Gregoire said, staring Devereaux right in the eye. "Collard will be here in a matter of moments. You should let us go right now, or it could end very badly for you."

"Collard is your bodyguard?" Devereaux asked, though his tone indicated that he already had that information, and was just taking his time, savouring the moment.

"Yes, and you don't want him coming here."

Devereaux let out a soft laugh.

"On the contrary, I'm counting on it." he motioned to the men. "Watch the corridor. If the bodyguard shows up, kill him."

As one, the men nodded and filed out of the room. Devereaux waited until the door had swung shut behind them before speaking again.

"If this Collard is supposed to be your bodyguard, then where is he?"

"He's dealing with your assassin." Gregoire said, glaring daggers at Devereaux.

"Really? Are you sure?" Devereaux said, smiling once again, as though laughing at some inside joke that only he found funny.

"Do you know something, Devereaux?"

"Maybe."

"Stop fucking around, Devereaux!" Gregoire barked. Fleur heard Gabrielle gasp at her father's language. She had never heard her father speak like that to anyone; hell, she had hardly ever seen her father even so much as lose his temper. It seemed that the last few months were starting to tell.

"Well, seeing as you asked so nicely," Devereaux said, that annoying smirk back on his face again. "did you know that they used to run together?"

Fleur let out an audible gasp in spite of herself. She found it hard to believe that Collard had once been friendly with the assassin, what with them having a good go at trying to kill each other not moments ago.

"You're lying." she said, staring defiantly at Devereaux. Devereaux turned to her, that irritatingly arrogant smile plastered all over his face.

"Lying, am I? Do you have any evidence to the contrary?"

"They were trying to kill each other!"

"Of course. In their world, friendship counts for nothing when there's money to be made." He sighed dramatically. "'No honour among thieves', as the Muggles say. Such a shame."

Devereaux was raking his eyes over her body, a sadistic gleam in his eyes, a gleam that Fleur didn't like the look of at all.

"I must say, Delacour, that for a bunch of half-breeds, you do have a beautiful family."

Gregoire said nothing, but continued to glare daggers at Devereaux. Devereaux lifted a finger, moving it along the line of Delacour women, as though trying to decide something.

:Well it would appear that your bodyguard isn't coming, so we have all the time in the world. And it would be such a shame for such beauty to go to waste." His finger stopped, pointing directly at Fleur. "Yes, such a waste."

He advanced toward her, his hands reaching out to the top of her shirt.

"Don't touch her!" Gregoire shouted, but Devereaux ignored him. Gripping the collar of Fleur's shirt, he pulled roughly, ripping the shirt apart and exposing her body to the cold air. Reaching down into his pocket, he withdrew an ordinary Muggle switchblade. Bringing it up, he cut roughly through the front of Fleur's bra, before pulling the two pieces of material away, allowing the cold air to wash over Fleur's exposed breasts. She gasped, both at the cold and at the unwelcome intrusion.

Ignoring the family's various outbursts of indignation, Devereaux pocketed the switchblade and brought his hands up, bringing them closer and closer to her breasts. Fleur struggled against her bonds, but the magic holding her in place was too strong.

Devereaux's head snapped round as a cacophony of bangs, shouts and thuds sounded from just beyond the door. He paused, his hands centimetres from Fleur's breasts, listening intently.

"Well, I guess I was wrong." He withdrew his hands, though made no move to repair her clothing. "It seems I shall have to deal with Collard myself."

Devereaux retreated into the corner, settling himself on the chair, completely hidden in shadow.

The sounds from the corridor were lessening now. There was a final thud, and silence reigned once again. There was a brief pause, and the door burst open. Collard ran in, wand up, pointing it all around the room.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Astier made to snatch at Harry's ankle again. This time, though, Harry was expecting the move. Stepping nimbly to the side, he brought his foot crashing down onto Astier's wrist, breaking it and locking it in place. Astier gave a cry of pain, and started thrashing, trying to throw Harry off balance.

"You shouldn't have got involved, Astier." Harry said, his wand directed at her head again. "It would have been so much better for you if you hadn't."

Astier had stopped thrashing. She was now looking up at Harry with something akin to fear.

"You wouldn't kill me, would you, Collard?"

"Had you asked me that a year ago, I would have said no."

"And now?"

Harry sighed.

No remorse. No regret.

"You sealed your fate when you pitched yourself against me."

"No! Collard, please!"

Harry paused. During all his time with the young woman, never once had he heard her beg.

No remorse. No regret.

He gripped his wand tightly.

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

The jet of light hit Astier square in the face. There was nowhere for her to run, nowhere for her to hide. The last thing she saw was Collard's eyes. There was no remorse there. No regret.

As Astier's body went limp, Harry removed his foot from her wrist. Raising his hand, he could see the stone pulsing feverishly. He hovered his wand over the ring. He had wasted enough time. He cast one look back at Astier's body lying on the cold, hard floor.

No remorse. No regret.

He tapped his wand against the stone, and vanished.

-x-x-x-x-x-

He reappeared in a dank, dimly lit hallway, lit only by a few sparse light bulbs hanging from the ceiling. Reaching out with his mind, he quickly found where the Delacours were being held. The fear emanating from the room threatened to overwhelm his Occlumency barriers.

_They're still alive._

He started down the corridor, wand at the ready. Not quite running, but not walking either. It would do no good for him to run and be caught up in an ambush.

Turning a corner, he could see a group of four men standing outside a door, glancing every now and then down the corridor.

_Got you._

He walked purposefully down the corridor, toward the men, wand at the ready.

"There!"

One of the men had spotted him. The other three wheeled around, firing curses down the corridor. In the narrow space, there was no room to dodge the incoming spells, but the distance allowed him plenty of time to defend himself. Raising his hand, he cast a Shield Charm in front of him, all the while continuing forward, never deviating from his path.

The spells impacted against the shield with a series of explosions. Harry carried on forward, unfazed. The men didn't seem too affected either.

"You heard the boss; kill him!"

Harry raised his wand, firing two Killing Curses before the men could do likewise. Two of the men fell to the ground as they were struck by the jets of light. Harry ducked as a curse flew over his head, ruffling his hair as it passed. He fired another Killing Curse and another man fell.

The last man now seemed a little unsure of himself. He fired off a series of spells, all of which exploded in front of Harry as the shield blocked each and every one of them.

"_Incendio_!"

The man gave a shout of surprise as his robes caught fire, the small flames quickly increasing to a small inferno. He struggled to remove his cloak before the fire enveloped him, and this was just what Harry was looking for. While he man struggled with his cloak, Harry loosed a final Killing Curse. The man crumpled to the ground, still entangled in his burning cloak, the flames beginning to consume him. Stepping swiftly around him, Harry threw the door open, scanning around quickly for any threats.

The first thing he noticed was the family, locked in place against the far wall. Fleur's shirt was hanging loose, her breasts on full display, the pink of her nipples in stark relief against the pale flesh surrounding them. Gabrielle was sobbing, tears streaming down her face. Apolline was struggling against her bonds, while Gregoire was staring into a corner, seething, his teeth bared.

"Collard!"

Gabrielle's voice cut through the silence. Harry cast another glance around before walking toward them.

"Collard, no! It's a trap!"

Harry stopped dead as footsteps sounded behind him. Turning his head slightly, he could see a man walking toward steadily toward him, one arm outstretched, clutching a wand.

"Well, well, Monsieur Collard." the man said, coming nearer and nearer. "I was beginning to wonder if you were going to show up."

Harry spun on his heel, his wand up, pointing back at the man.

"I have a contract. I never leave a contract unfinished."

"What are you waiting for?" Fleur asked, her teeth starting to chatter slightly from the cold.

"Be quiet, Fleur." Harry said, not looking at her.

"What happened to Astier?"

"Three guesses."

Neither man lowered their wand, or took their eyes off the other. Devereaux nodded approvingly.

"A shame, she had talent."

"Collard, help us!" Fleur cried.

"Be quiet, Fleur." Harry said, slightly louder this time.

"I must admit, I am impressed, Collard. I was starting to worry you couldn't fulfil your contract."

"No, this ends tonight."

Both continued boring their eyes into the other, their body language giving nothing away. For a long time they stood there, wands pointing into each other's faces. Finally, Fleur spoke up again.

"What are you waiting for, Collard? Kill him!"

"Be. _Quiet_. Fleur!" Harry shouted, waving his hand at her. Fleur tried to speak, but found herself unable to do so.

Devereaux smiled.

"Come now, Collard. You will never have a better opportunity than this. Do it."

Harry's eyes narrowed. There was no way Devereaux was going to give up so easily.

"_Expelliarmus!_"

As expected, Devereaux batted the charm aside, quickly returning a Blasting Curse. Harry dove to the side as the ground exploded in a shower of rubble. Waving his hand at the Delacours, he erected a powerful shield around them, protecting them from the inevitable crossfire.

He fired a Killing Curse at Devereaux as he rolled to his feet. Devereaux neatly sidestepped the curse, a look of almost boredom on his face.

"Come, Collard. My sources told me you were better than this."

Harry didn't reply, choosing instead to launch a volley of curses at Devereaux, all of which were blocked or dodged. Devereaux responded in kind, forcing Harry to erect another shield to protect himself.

Another curse from Devereaux sent several sharp, wicked-looking knives soaring through the air. Harry ducked as the knives whistled overhead. Flicking his wand, Harry launched several Blasting Curses at the ground around Devereaux's feet. The floor exploded, but Devereaux managed to keep his balance.

"Not exactly accurate."

"I wasn't aiming to be." Harry snarled, whipping his wand across his body. Devereaux's eyes widened as the pieces of floor whipped up around him, a deadly vortex of wood, stone and dust. It compressed inwards, completely hiding Devereaux from view. Harry gave a low growl as he flung his arm outwards.

The vortex collapsed inwards, pelting Devereaux with the debris. A scream of pain was cut short as dust forced its way into Devereaux's open mouth. Harry watched with grim satisfaction as a cloud of dust began settling where the Frenchman had been.

A jet of white light shot from the midst of the dust cloud, striking Harry in the face. Harry roared in pain as a large welt opened up on his forehead, drenching his face in blood. Waving his hand over his face, he closed the wound as best he could, watching the cloud intently, looking for a sign of movement.

A wand whipped through the cloud, dissipating the remnants of the dust still hanging in the air, revealing Devereaux like a cheap Muggle magic trick.

It was not a pretty sight. Blood soaked his clothes, his hair matted with dust and blood. One cheek had been completely shredded, and his left eye was missing completely. Despite his injuries, though, the man was still standing, albeit barely. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Harry could see the vast majority of his teeth were either cracked or missing, and his tongue was in tatters.

No remorse. No regret.

Harry fired a Killing Curse at Devereaux, who barely managed to avoid it. He raised his wand, which had somehow survived the ordeal, launching a jet of black light at Harry. Harry rolled to the side to avoid it before rushing Devereaux, knocking him to the ground. Devereaux's wand skittered away as he lost his grip on it.

Harry placed one hand on the man's ruined chest, pinning him in place. Breathing heavily, he pointed his wand between Devereaux's eyes.

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

The jet of green light hit Devereaux square in the face. The last thing he saw was Harry's feral grin. Then the lights left his eyes.

Harry pushed the man roughly to the floor.

"How's that for accurate?"

He stood, stowing his wand and wiping the blood from his face. Turning back to the Delacour family, their faces were full of relief and gratitude. Gabrielle had her eyes screwed shut, while Fleur's face held an expression somewhere between gratitude and in danger of being violently ill.

Waving his hand, Harry cancelled his Shield Charm.

"Are any of you hurt?"

"Only my modesty." Fleur said, glancing down at her bare chest. Moving toward her, Harry waved his hand again, and Fleur's clothes began stitching themselves together again. Moments later, it was as though Devereaux had never touched them.

Harry waved his hand a final time, cancelling the charms that had been binding the family in place. As Gregoire, Apolline and Gabrielle attempted to shake some feeling back into their limbs, Fleur flung her arms around Harry's neck, pulling him close.

"Thank you." she whispered. Harry patted her back awkwardly until she released him. "Thank you for saving us." She pressed her lips to his for a brief moment before returning to her family.

"Collard." Gregoire's voice was thick with emotion. "Words cannot express my gratitude for what you have done, not only for me, but for my family as well."

Harry shrugged.

"Just doing my job."

"Regardless, I owe you a large debt, one that can never be repaid."

"You don't owe me anything, other than the amount specified in our arrangement." Harry said.

Gregoire chuckled lightly.

"I will have Gringotts transfer the gold to your account by the end of the week."

Harry nodded.

"You're too kind."

"What will you do now?" Apolline asked, clutching Gabrielle to her side, as if afraid the girl would disappear.

"For the moment, I will disappear." Harry said. "Then it will be business as usual."

"You're not staying?" Fleur asked, a hint of sorrow in her voice. Harry looked at her.

"I never said I would stay. You knew from the outset that I had no intention of remaining with your family. I had a job, and that job is finished."

Fleur's bottom lip trembled, but she managed to stop herself from crying.

"I'll return you to your manor." Harry continued. "Most of the damage should have been repaired by now."

He walked over to the group, grabbing hold of Gregoire's wrist.

"Hold on."

The rest of the family crowded around him. Harry pressed his finger to the stone in his ring. There was a flash of light, and the family vanished from the room.

-x-x-x-x-x-

It was several days before the body of Christophe Devereaux was discovered. The French Auror Corps started a full scale investigation, but inevitably came up empty. The murderer was never found.

Harry stayed with the Delacours for only a few extra days to assist with the final repairs to the manor, as well as to ensure the family adjusted well to their new situation.

One night, he quietly packed up his things and left the manor. The family woke up the next morning to find the house short one person. He left no notes, no memories, nothing that could be kept for sentimental reasons. He simply vanished.

A couple of days after Harry disappeared, Gregoire was to speak to the French magical community about the death of Devereaux. He had spent several days preparing what he would say, choosing his words carefully. As he stood outside the French Ministry building, he spoke of how Devereaux was a valued member of the French political and social environment, the effect of his death on the wider community, and assuring the public that the Ministry would continue to investigate his death.

From a shadowy side street, a hooded figure watched the scene unfold. The Minister, stood on a podium, addressing the crowd, his family behind him, offering their silent support and encouragement. The crowd, listening with rapt attention, an atmosphere of both fear and sorrow.

Harry smiled to himself. The family were safe, and the wizarding world would recover quickly. His work here was done. He cast one last look at the family, then turned and walked down the narrow street, disappearing into the shadows.

-x-x-x-x-x-

From the stage, Fleur caught a small sign of movement in her peripheral vision. She turned her head ever so slightly, not enough to garner attention. Sure enough, she could just make out a hooded figure disappear down a dark alley.

Fleur allowed herself a small, private smile. She hadn't seen their face, but she knew exactly who it had been.

_I'll see him again. I know I will._

**A/N:**** I hope you preferred this ending to the old ending. I'm quite glad I changed it actually, as this ending allows for a sequel. The updates from here on out will be far less frequent, as the last eleven chapters I had written already. As far as I have planned out, Part Two of this story will be about ten chapters long, and will fill in all the blanks about Harry's life before the start of this story.**

**Thanks for reading so far, and I hope you enjoy Part Two when it's published!**


	13. VOLUME TWO - Prologue

**A/N: Well, here we are, Part Two of The French Connection. While I will endeavour to keep this part as action-packed as the first, this part will also feature a lot more character development, and a lot more about Harry's past will be revealed. Exciting times abound!**

**VOLUME TWO – BLACK MAGIC**

**Summary: Six years have passed, and Collard is nowhere to be found. But when Fleur finds herself embroiled in a plot to murder her old bodyguard in Haiti, fate pushes them together, for one will not survive without the other...**

**~Prologue~**

**France, 2002**

Six years had passed since the affair with Christophe Devereaux, since her family had been in mortal danger, since Collard, the enigmatic yet powerful young boy, had saved their lives. Even now, the boy still crossed Fleur's mind from time to time.

True to his word, the boy had not contacted the family after his sudden departure. Slowly but surely, the family had settled back into their normal routine. Gregoire had thrown himself headfirst into his role as Minister for Magic, while Fleur had joined him at the French Ministry in their Auror division in an administrative capacity. Gabrielle had returned to Beauxbatons, where she quickly settled in, achieving consistently high grades. Apolline resumed her duties as a wife and mother, lending constant and invaluable support to her family.

Occasionally, a report had passed across Fleur's desk, detailing some unexplained murder or kidnap. Fleur was sure that Collard had had something to do with them, but without definitive proof, she didn't feel it worth mentioning to her superiors. Instead, she had filed them away like every other report, though a small smile graced her features each time she did so.

After a couple of years, however, the number of reports that could be linked to the bodyguard had begun to dwindle, and by the turn of the millennium, the reports had ceased altogether. Though she never voiced it aloud, Fleur was, in a way, disappointed. The reports had indicated that Collard, if he was even responsible, was at least still alive. The sudden lack meant that he was either dead, or had relocated abroad. Fleur prayed fiercely that it was the latter.

With nothing to distract her, Fleur had begun to plan a trip around the world, something she had wanted to do since she had graduated from Beauxbatons. Gregoire had tried to convince her to take security along with her, but she had managed to shout him down after pointing out that, outside of France, she was a relative unknown, just another French girl seeing the sights of the world.

By the summer of 2002, she was ready to leave. She had invested in a Shrinking Travelling Trunk, to store her clothes and other possessions, and Gregoire had procured a Gringotts Transfer Pouch to help with any unforseen expenses.

Her final night at the manor before her departure was a solemn affair. Gregoire and Apolline had gazed at her with equal parts anxiety, excitement and pride. Gabrielle had attached herself to her older sister, determined to soak up as much of her as she could before she left.

Fleur couldn't help the grin of excitement plastered across her face the next day at the International Floo Station in Paris. This was it, her first real foray into the wide world.

She blew a kiss to her family as she threw the Floo powder to the floor. First stop, Barcelona.

-x-x-x-x-x-

**Somewhere in the Himalayas, 2002**

_BOOM!_

Harry ducked as another part of the ceiling of the cave fell, nearly falling on top of him, pushing his legs to carry him faster out of the cave, his cloak billowing behind him. He threw a curse over his shoulder, not waiting to see if it hit anything, instead forcing himself to continue out toward the opening.

_I thought monks were supposed to be peaceful?_

Another curse whizzed past his head. He threw another two curses then waved his hand at the stretch of wall he had just dashed past, exploding it inward. Several of his pursuers cried out in pain as they ran straight into the explosion, while the others pushed past, intent on catching the intruder.

Harry stumbled slightly as his feet hit an errant lump of rock, and he only just managed to keep his balance. He whipped round, firing two Killing Curses, then streaked off again, the mouth of the cave in sight.

An unwelcome heat on the back of his neck caught his attention. Twisting his head, he could see the unmistakable form of Fiendfyre bearing down on him.

_Again?_

He picked up his pace with renewed intensity, desperate to escape the raging inferno behind him. Reaching the mouth of the cave, he thrust both arms outwards, collapsing the entrance of the cave, burying the fire and the last of the pursuant monks, as well as the entrance to the ancient temple.

His Nepalese contact was watching him approach with a look of amusement.

"Problems with the monks?"

Harry ran a hand ruefully through his now short hair.

"Just a few."

The man smiled.

"You have the scroll?"

Harry reached into his cloak, wordlessly pulling out a very old, very battered-looking scroll. The man nodded.

"Good."

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see the mound of rubble starting to glow with heat. The rock would not be enough to stop the progress of the dark fire.

"We'd better get going. My employer will not want to be kept waiting."

The air began to ripple with heat as the rocks covering the entrance to the temple began vibrating.

"No time for that." Harry said, watching the rocks warily, which were now glowing white-hot. He turned to the Nepalese man. "Do you trust me?"

"No."

"Excellent." Harry darted to the side, rushing toward the edge of the path overlooking the gorge that sheltered the small village from which he had set out that morning. He cast one final look back at the man before diving off the ledge, just as the mouth of the cave exploded outwards, the Fiendfyre consuming both the rocks and the helpless local.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Harry pushed out with his magic, using it to control his descent to the village below. The Fiendfyre was barely audible, lost in the roar and whistling of his free fall.

The village was getting closer. Adjusting his trajectory slightly, he aimed for a shadowy corner, slowing his descent further.

When he was thirty feet from the ground, he flipped himself the right way up, landing heavily, bending his knees to absorb the impact not removed by his magic during his descent. Standing, he checked the scroll was still secure, pulled his hood up and stepped onto the street.

Several people gave him funny looks as he stalked through the streets, but he ignored them all, his sole focus on the building in the distance.

When he reached the building, he raised his hand, knocking solidly three times. The door opened a crack, revealing one, fearful eye. The eye regarded Harry for a moment, before the door swung all the way open to reveal a stooping woman holding the handle. Harry swept past her, not acknowledging her presence.

A door opened along the long, dark hallway. As Harry approached, a man stepped out, dressed smartly compared to the rest of the locals, striding confidently down the hall to meet Harry.

"Collard! Good to see you returned unharmed! You have the package?"

Harry merely nodded. He followed the man through the building, finally drawing to a stop outside a large, oak door. The man knocked twice, then pushed the door open, ushering Harry inside.

The man sat behind the desk was dressed even more elegantly than the other. He looked up as Harry walked in, lowering his hood as he did so.

"No problems?" the man said, dispensing with any form of greeting.

"You failed to mention the monks would react violently." Harry said, a slight accusatory note in his voice. The man merely shrugged.

"Your reputation precedes you. I was sure you could handle it." He leant forward. "You got what I asked for?"

"Of course."

Harry reached into his cloak, pulling out the scroll, tossing it to the man, who caught it deftly, placing in on the desk in front of him.

"Thank you." Opening a drawer in the desk, he reached in, pulling out a small bag. He threw it to Harry, who snatched it out of the air and deposited it in a pocket in one swift movement. "For your trouble."

Harry inclined his head.

"My thanks."

He turned around, heading back toward the door. He pulled his hood back up as he heard the man unfurling the scroll. He didn't look back. The door closed.

Smiling slightly, Harry strode through the hallways again, reaching the front door relatively quickly. The stooping woman pulled it open and Harry stepped back out once again into the harsh cold of the Himalayan village.


	14. VOLUME TWO - Visions of the Future

**~Chapter One – Visions of the Future~**

**India, 2002**

Harry made his way carefully between the small huts that served as homes, following the directions he had memorised the day before.

The man who had hired him had been remarkably unhelpful with details, giving him only directions and a name. Prama Kapoor. Harry had pressed for more details, but the man was unrelenting. "What you need to know, she will tell you." he had said, and that was it.

So now Harry was in a small shanty town in the poorest part of the city, searching out a woman he knew next to nothing about. Every sense was screaming to him that it was a trap, and he held his wand ready, concealed in the sleeve of his cloak.

The hut was close. Harry could practically feel the magic rolling off it in waves. But there was something about it that didn't feel right. It felt rawer, more natural. His grip on his wand tightened.

He raised his hand and rapped sharply on the metal. There was a pause, then the door swung open. Composing himself, Harry ducked down and entered the hut.

The hut was small and cramped. A pile of sheets was bundled in one corner, evidently serving as a bed. The whole place was lit by a soft light that seemed to emanate from the walls themselves. Harry nodded. Magic was definitely at work here.

A lone woman sat in the middle of the room, shawls wrapped tightly around her thin frame. Looking at her, Harry guessed she had to be at least a hundred years old, if not older. Magic had been proven to extend lifespans, and magic was pouring off this woman like a tsunami.

"Prama Kapoor?"

The woman raised her head to look at him and nodded. Her eyes were milky white, yet still held an incredible depth.

"It is good to meet you, Mr Collard. Or, should I call you, Harry Potter?"

Harry's entire body tensed, his grip on his wand tightening as he fought his every instinct to curse the woman into oblivion. That was a name he adn't heard since he was six, when he had first cast the name aside. Everyone thought Harry Potter to be dead, and, in a way, he was. There was no way this woman could possibly know that name.

"How do you know who I am?"

"You do not deny it?" Her every word was spoken slowly, deliberately, as though each was chosen after a great deal of consideration.

"Harry Potter is dead." Harry said harshly. "There's nothing to deny."

Prama nodded, as though she had expected such an answer. She motioned to a small pile of rags, obviously inviting Harry to sit. He did so, though he didn't take his eyes off the old woman. His fingers stroked the hilt o his wand, while his other hand hovered over the holster that housed the second wand he had carried since the Delacour contract.

"To answer your question, I know many things. I Read them, much as I see you now."

"You 'read' them?"

Prama nodded again.

"I am a True Seer, as you Westerners would put it. In our culture, I am a True Reader."

"What's the difference?"

The woman chuckled.

"Perception. To see is to notice, to read is to comprehend."

Harry resisted the urge to sigh. _Another one who talks in riddles._

"So, you're a glorified fortune teller, then?"

Prama hissed.

"Do not speak such heresy here, boy! Fortune tellers are charlatans, lowering themselves for the mere amusement of Muggles."

"And you are different because..."

"I Read the future."

Harry forced himself to remain calm. He had met many Seers on his travels, and had found them all arrogant and self-serving, lording their abilities or supposed abilities over others. Harry had no patience for those who claimed to see the future.

"Every supposed seer of the future I have had the misfortune to meet has been either inaccurate or completely wrong. Why should you be any better?"

In a flash, Prama's tone changed to one filled with venom, an almost frightening transformation form the serene old woman she had been moments before.

"Watch your tongue, boy, unless you wish me to rip it from your head." She stared into Harry's eyes for a moment, before relaxing again. "In answer, your Western Seers tell you what _could_ happen; I can tell you what _will_ happen."

Harry settled back, crossing his arms.

"A bold claim."

"A _true_ claim."

Harry kept his features emotionless, not speaking for several moments. Finally, Prama sighed.

"I see you will not be convinced easily."

"Only the gullible are easily convinced." Silence. "Why did you want to see me?"

"I Read your coming, many years ago. I Read many things, but never one specific person. You are very interesting."

Harry smirked.

"So I've been told."

A ghost of a smile flickered across Prama's lips.

"I must find out why you are so interesting. May I Read you?"

Harry's eyes narrowed.

"Do I have a choice?"

"Are you afraid?"

"Of the future? No. The future is what you make it. It is not set in stone. To suggest otherwise is to assume we have no free will, and then we may as well be pieces on a chessboard, doomed to answer to a higher power for eternity."

"You speak wise words for one so young."

"I've experienced enough of the world to form my own opinions."

"So, will you consent to a Reading?"

Harry considered for a moment, then shrugged.

"Fine, I'll humour you."

Prama nodded approvingly.

"You are stoic in your beliefs. A good quality to have. Ensure it does not become a hard-headed arrogance."

She reached forwards, taking Harry's hands in her own. Harry felt a small tingle at each point of contact, like a small electric shock.

Prama swayed where she sat for a while. When she finally spoke, her voice was deeper, more gravelly.

"You have seen much, Harry Potter. A cruel childhood, one no child should experience. Yet you persevered, you overcame. Your experiences made you who you were and are and will be." There was a short pause. "I see two people. One intrinsically linked to your past, while the other is tied to your future. The darkness, that is the past. But it is also your future. You cannot run from it. Rather, you will run _to_ it, regardless of whether you want to or not."

Harry's eyes narrowed slightly. This sounded all too familiar; sweeping and ambiguous.

"The flower of the court. Your future. She will be your greatest victory, and at the same time, your greatest defeat. She is everywhere, your whole future. She will destroy and rebuild, over and over. You cannot fight this. It has been Read."

Prama's eyes opened and she looked deep into his eyes.

Harry was unimpressed. Other than his name, he had seen nothing to convince him of any supernatural ability. Just more ambiguous statements that could be interpreted any which way.

"You are disbelieving, as is your nature." Prama said, releasing his hands, her voice reverting to its normal tones. "But you will see."

"Like I said, the future is not set in stone. Every choice sends the future in a different direction."

"The destination is the same; it is the journey that is different. You cannot run from your fate, Harry Potter." She gave him one last, long look. "You may go. Your next assignment is waiting."

Harry stood, repressing a further sigh of exasperation. Of course he would have an assignment waiting. He always did.

He moved to the door, pulling it open. As he stepped out, he turned back, casting one final look at the woman. She had closed her eyes again, her breathing deep and rhythmical. He shook his head, and stepped back into the pseudo street, striding away into the shadows.


	15. VOLUME TWO - Whispers

**~Chapter Two – Whispers~**

**Haiti, 2002**

Fleur stared up in awe at the temple towering above her. While time had caused the forest around it to descend into wilderness, the temple remained perfectly preserved. Constructed from large, hewed blocks of stone, the area around the structure was perfectly tamed, as though it was protected by a large, invisible barrier. Two looming statues flanked the entrance, large, powerfully built men brandishing sceptres topped with a large orb, the Haitians' focus of choice.

Fleur shivered slightly, dspite the sun blazing down from above. There was something about the place that just felt... _evil_.

She slipped her hand into her pocket, taking comfort in the feel of the rosewood of her wand. Taking a calming breath, she stepped forward, pushing her hand against the door.

Inside, several candles candles provided light, scattered around the large chamber at various intervals. A large altar instantly drew attention to the back of the room. There were a few pews scattered haphazardly. The whole chamber seemed abandoned and yet thriving at the same time.

Fleur had learnt about the rise of the Black Arts from her Magical History classes at Beauxbatons, a subject that had, and still did, fascinate her. In the 1500's, a group of Dark wizards had began to dabble in magic, twisting and distorting in to their whim. Eventually, they had been banished to Haiti, far from civilisation, where they would not be a threat. As they experimented, they became more and more unhinged, needing the magic to stay alive. After several decades, they retreated to their temples, far from prying eyes. No one knew what had become of that group of wizards, but the temples themselves had become places of interest for explorers, looters and those who wanted to discover the secrets of Black Magic.

Fleur gazed around, drinking in the architecture, the décor, the atmosphere. Drawing her wand, she muttered a quick spell, and the tip illuminated, throwing light around the room.

She jumped as the doors swung hut behind her, slamming shut with a booming crash. Steadying her breath, she continued to make her way through the chamber, her head flitting left and right as she did so, now on the lookout for potential attackers hidden in the shadows.

A slight scuffling of stone caught her attention. Turning slowly, she looked around, but couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. Flicking her wand upwards, she released the ball of light into the air. It hung in the centre of the ceiling, casting its light over the entire chamber.

"Who are you, who desecrates this sacred place?"

Fleur spun on her heel, brandishing her wand at the source of the voice. Four men were moving around the altar, each wielding a sceptre similar to those held by the statues outside. Fleur instinctively took several steps back, trying to force some distance between the men and herself.

The men stared at her for a moment, none of them speaking. Finally, the man at the fore of the group spoke.

"You are not the one we are waiting for. Leave."

Fleur didn't have to be told twice. Back-pedalling furiously, she threw the doors open and ran out into the sun.

The men watched her leave without a word.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Fleur didn't stop running until she reached the outskirts of Port-au-Prince. Composing herself, she moved quickly through the streets, heading toward the magical Fifth Quarter. She cast a quick, furtive glance around her, checking that she hadn't been followed and passed through the barrier.

The atmosphere in the Fifth Quarter was so different from that in the Muggle part of the city. While the Muggle world seemed to thrum with activity, the magical area seemed to buzz with energy, a tangible taste in the air. Fleur headed through the winding streets, looking for a place to stop for a moment.

A small tavern seemed to jump out at her, her eyes drawn to it. Checking around herself again, she crossed to the tavern and pushed the door open, slipping inside.

The noise inside ceased immediately as Fleur entered. Every eye turned to her, looks of interest, confusion and downright hostility on every face. The room was incredibly crowded. Men and women crowded every table and stretched all along the bar. Drawing her jacket tighter around herself, Fleur scurried to the back of the room, slipping into an empty seat at a lone table, avoiding eye contact with everyone.

Slowly, the patrons began to talk amongst themselves again, obviously deciding that Fleur was of no real interest.

Fleur looked around at the various people. They all seemed to be natives, bar perhaps a few. One such group was a small band of four Spanish wizards sitting at the next table, speaking in hushed tones. She paid them little attention, preferring to remain as anonymous as possible in the unfamiliar environment.

"My information is accurate. Collard is here."

Fleur's head snapped up.

"Here in Port-au-Prince?"

"Yes."

"When do we do it?"

"As quickly as possible. Collard is ruthless and efficient. He doesn't wait around. This I know."

"Then what are we waiting for? Do you know who his target is?"

"You do not understand what you are asking. He is cold, calculating, and does not distinguish between the man he hunts and the man foolish enough to stand in his way."

"What are you proposing, then?"

Fleur listened carefully, her heart hammering in her chest.

"I have made arrangements with the Disciples of the Black Arts. We send him to them, and they will deal with him for us."

Fleur's stomach clenched unpleasantly at this. She thought back to what the men at the temple had said.

_You are not the one we are waiting for._

Fleur suddenly understood. They had been waiting for Collard. Which meant that those men must have been the Disciples of the Black Arts. Fleur shuddered. If that was true, she was lucky they had let her go. There were many stories of the Disciples, and none of them were good.

The men were talking again.

"How are you going to get him there?"

Though she couldn't see him, Fleur was sure the man was grinning.

""I have it all under control."


	16. VOLUME TWO - Reunited

**~Chapter Three – Reunited~**

With a population of around 700,000, Fleur was in no doubt that finding Collard would prove incredibly difficult. The boy – no, man – was a professional killer. If he didn't want to be found, Fleur was very confident that he wouldn't be.

However, she wasn't going to let that stop her. If Collard was indeed in Port-au-Prince on a job, she was sure she'd find out where he was soon enough.

-x-x-x-x-x-

"You know who this is?"

Harry looked at the photograph in front of him. It had obviously been taken surreptitiously, from a distance. The subject was a tall, tanned man looking to be in his mid-thirties. He was clad in an elegant suit, somewhat out of place amongst the natives.

Harry shook his head.

"His name is Hernando Rojas. He's the leading drug trafficker for the Fifth Quarter, specialising in Gold Dust. I want him gone."

"Very well."

The man opposite him looked rather taken aback. There was nothing in Harry's voice, it was almost completely dead. It was unnerving.

"You aren't going to ask why?"

Harry shook his head.

"I only need a place."

The man took a steadying breath.

"Fine. He has a meeting scheduled for tomorrow at the hotel two blocks from here. Top floor, 3pm."

"Clean and silent, or do you want to send a message?"

The man considered for a moment.

"Make it noticeable."

Harry smiled, a smile that sent chills down the other man's spine.

"'Noticeable' is my speciality. One thousand Galleons."

"Deal."

-x-x-x-x-x-

The hotel in question stood at twenty stories, easily the tallest building in the area. The same white colour as the buildings around it, only its height set it apart from its neighbours.

Harry stood at the base of the hotel, gazing up at the top floor, squinting against the afternoon sunlight, considering his options.

The easiest option would be going straight through the front door, of course. Rojas had, Harry was assuming, no idea there was a contract out on him. It would be a fairly simple route. But there was so much that could go wrong.

His other option was the outside wall. If he could levitate himself up and break through a window, he would have the advantage of surprise as well as a quick escape route.

He made his mind up in a split second. Drawing his magic around him, he cloaked himself in a Disillusionment Charm. Slowly, carefully, he began to gently raise himself through the air, his gaze locked firmly on the twentieth story window.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Fleur flopped down onto a bench, just outside one of the many hotels in the city. She had spent the best part of the day scouring the city looking for Collard, yet she had still not found him.

She didn't quite understand why she felt surprised. Port-au-Prince was huge, and she was looking for one man in over 700,000. Added to that, she hadn't seen him in six years. For all she knew, his appearance had completely changed.

She was torn. She wanted to help Collard, to warn him, but if she didn't find him soon, she would have to hope that Collard could fend for himself.

She sighed as she looked around at her surroundings. The square was nearly deserted. Only a few tourists were around, cameras in hand, taking pictures of anything and everything.

The unmistakable sound of smashing glass caught her attention. She glanced around, but couldn't locate the source of the crash. Her gaze snapped back to the hotel as another crash came, closer this time. Looking across, she could just see several shards of glass lying on the ground, glinting slightly in the sun. She looked up, the only direction the glass could have come from.

Sure enough, she could just see a large hole where a window had once been. She stood.

_BOOM!_

The entire top floor of the hotel exploded outwards, showering the surrounding area with glass, rubble and other assorted materials. Fleur drew her wand, immediately casting a protective bubble over herself. The tourists screamed and began to run for cover.

Fleur wasn't quite sure why, but something made her look up, just in time to see a figure cloaked in black dive from the midst of the explosion, falling gracefully to the ground. She ran over to the figure's landing area, casting her gaze around.

The figure appeared to be a young man, a few years younger than Fleur. She watched as the man brushed himself off as he straightened. His hood had seemingly fallen off during his descent. Fleur gasped as she saw his face.

"Collard?"

The man's head whipped round at the sound of her voice. His eyes widened.

"Fleur?"

-x-x-x-x-x-

Harry reached the twentieth floor in fairly quick fashion. He halted himself outside a large window, peering through.

The room he was looking into was a large conference room, dominated by a vast wooden table, several comfortable looking chairs surrounding it. Only three were filled. One at the head of the table, occupied by someone who looked very similar to the picture of Rojas he had seen the previous day.

Bingo.

The other two seats were occupied by men dressed in very elaborate, elegant suits. Harry didn't know who they were, and didn't particularly care to find out. They were in the way. They would simply be collateral damage. If Rojas really was a narcotics trafficker, these men were likely to be involved as well. No one would miss them.

He drew one of his wands. Moving himself back slightly, he took aim.

The window exploded, shards of glass falling to the street below. Harry holstered his wand and shot forward, landing just inside the window. Releasing his Disillusionment Charm, he turned to face Rojas.

To say Rojas was surprised at having his meeting interrupted in such a fashion was an understatement. He stared slack-jawed at Harry, who had seemingly appeared out of thin air. Harry's hood obscured much of his face. Only his mouth was visible, twisting into a cold, emotionless smile.

The other two men tried running toward the door, but Harry was faster. Thrusting his hand out, the door locked with a rather audible click.

"Mr Rojas?" Harry asked. Rojas nodded. "Mr Garcia sends his regards."

Wordlessly, Harry cast a protective aura over himself. He smiled again at Rojas and flung his arms wide.

"_Incendios Aeros!_"

Rojas' scream was lost as the air in the room ignited, ripping apart the entire room and most of the upper floor of the building. Harry flung himself backward, letting himself fall through the air. He could feel the heat of the explosion lessening as he fell. There was no way Rojas could have survived. Contract fulfilled.

He landed in one of the city's many back alleys. His hood had fallen during the fall, but Harry wasn't planning on sticking around. He straightened up, brushing off his clothes.

"Collard?"

He whipped round at the sound of his assumed name. _That voice..._

He stared at the girl he hadn't seen in more than half a decade. Prama's words suddenly came back to him, swimming to the forefront of his mind from the depths of his conscious.

_The Flower of the Court. The Fleur de la Cour. Fleur Delacour._

He almost laughed. Almost. It seemed, on a subconscious level, he had known this moment was coming.

"Fleur?"

-x-x-x-x-x-

He was older, his hair was much shorter, he had several more scars, but it was obviously Collard. Fleur could do little more than stare. She had been actively searching for him all day, and now he had quite literally dropped out of the sky in front of her. Fate had a funny way of working.

"How did you find me?" His voice wasn't harsh. It was more... reserved? Cautious? Fleur wasn't sure. Her jaw worked up and down a few times before she managed to find her voice again.

"I... I need to warn you."

Collard's eyes narrowed.

"About what?"

"You're going to walk into a trap."

The wailing of sirens cut across her. Collard glanced in the direction of the sound before turning back to her.

"Walk with me."

He turned sharply, striding away down the alley. Fleur stared after him for a moment before she remembered herself and jogged after him.

Collard didn't speak for a long time, so long that Fleur wondered whether he was expecting her to break the silence. She was just about to open her mouth, when Collard spoke up.

"Why are you here?"

"I've been travelling. Haiti's magical history is incredibly rich and interesting. I couldn't pass up an opportunity to visit."

"So you haven't been following me?"

Fleur felt a surge of anger at the implication.

"Why would I follow you?"

Collard shrugged.

"It's been known to happen. Less than scrupulous individuals have come after me, attempting to retrieve their fee."

Fleur felt her hackles rise.

"My father is an honourable man! He saw what you are capable of, he wouldn't risk people like that. You have no idea how much he owes you, how much we all owe you."

Collard was silent for a moment.

"Tell me about this supposed 'trap'."

Fleur felt slightly sideswiped by the sudden change of topic, but recovered quickly.

"I overheard some people in a tavern talking about it. They mentioned you specifically. They knew you were here on a job, I don't know how. They were going to send you to a temple. I think I know which one they meant, and if it is, you'll walk straight into a trap."

They walked in silence for a long time. Fleur could practically hear Collard's mind working, making links between places and people and planning for any and all eventualities.

"You said you know which temple these people were talking about?"

Fleur jumped at the sudden broach of silence.

"I think so, yes."

"Why?"

"I was looking around one of the old Black Magic temples, and there were people waiting there. They said I wasn't the person they were waiting for. They might have been waiting for you."

"Do you remember where this temple is?"

"Yes. Vividly."

"Take me there."

Fleur did a double-take.

"What?"

"Take me there."

"Why? I just told you they're planning to kill you by you going there."

"That was when I was unaware of this plot against me. Now, I am armed with knowledge of it. They have lost the advantage of surprise."

"I told you about this so you could avoid it!"

"Step one; discover the trap. Step two; disarm the trap."

Fleur could only stare at the young man.

"Fine, but I'm coming with you."

-x-x-x-x-x-

They made the rest of the journey to the temple in complete silence. Fleur felt distinctly uncomfortable leading Collard into a trap, but the man's mind was made up. There was no way she was going to change it.

"This is it." Fleur said, drawing to a stop in front of the temple, feeling a distinct sense of deja vu. Collard cast an eye over the structure.

"You will stay here." he said, pulling up his hood.

"Like hell I will." Fleur retorted. "I'm coming with you."

Collard stared at her, but Fleur didn't buckle under his gaze.

"Fine. But be careful."

Slowly, they ventured inside. Collard flicked his wrist, and a small orb of light appeared, floating just over his hand, illuminating the chamber.

Fleur drew her wand as they walked deeper into the building. She cast her eyes around every nook and cranny of the chamber, looking for the robed figures she knew were somewhere in the construct. Collard was just ahead of her, hand outstretched, ready to fend off a sudden attack.

She didn't notice the figures until it was too late. She let out a scream as she was lifted into the air, dangling a good thirty feet above the ground.

Harry spun around at her scream, but a sudden, intense pain scorched through his head, bringing him to his knees. He forced himself to look up at their attackers.

"Is he the one?"

Silence. The pain increased tenfold. Harry ground his teeth together to keep from crying out.

"He is."

Harry watched as one of the figures strode toward him. He forced himself to his feet, the pain in his head lessening.

Fleur had stopped screaming and now could do nothing to help. She could have laughed at the irony of the situation. She had sought out Colard to warn him of this, and had led him straight into it anyway.

The figure in black had stopped about ten feet from Harry. Harry stared back at it defiantly, almost daring the person within to come closer.

"Welcome. We have been expecting you, Collard. Or, should we call you, Harry Potter?"

-x-x-x-x-x-

**A/N: Sorry about the wait, but I have been rather busy with writing more of my other stories, as well as planning the future for this one. And what a future it is; I have another six sequels planned for this, so there's a lot for you all to look forward to and enjoy.**

**This chapter was getting longer and longer, so I decided to cut it off here. Yes, I know it's another cliffhanger, so I'll try not to leave you hanging so long this time!**


	17. VOLUME TWO - Revelations

**~Chapter Four – Revelations~**

**WARNING: IMPLIED CHILD ABUSE IN THIS CHAPTER!**

"_Welcome. We have been expecting you, Collard. Or, should we call you, Harry Potter?"_

Silence. Fleur stopped struggling against the magic holding her in the air, the white hot pain coursing through her body seemingly numbed by the shock of this proclamation.

The man had called Collard Harry Potter. Everyone in the wizarding world knew who Harry Potter was, or rather, had been. The Boy Who Lived, the destroyer of Voldemort. The most famous wizard of his time. Collard couldn't possibly be the same person, could he?

Quite possibly, Fleur thought to herself. Harry Potter had vanished 14 years previously, presumed dead. She had only been a young girl then, barely twelve years old, but she could remember the furore that had surrounded the case. British Ministry officials had been summoned to Potter's place of residence one day to find the house a smoking crater. The bodies of his relatives had been found, but Harry had disappeared.

She could remember her father's many meetings and discussions of the subject. The whole world searched for their missing saviour. After a year of futile searching, however, the British Ministry had declared the young boy missing, presumed dead.

The backlash on Albus Dumbledore during that time had been vicious and ferocious. As the boy's guardian, many questioned why he had not done more to ensure the boy's safety. It had taken a long time for the wizard to reclaim his position in magical Britain.

Maybe, just maybe, Harry Potter wasn't dead at all.

Shaking herself from her thoughts, she looked down at Collard – no, _Harry_'s – face. His expression was terrifying. Normally distant and detached, his eyes were cold and hard, boiling with anger and barely concealed shock. His whole demeanour had changed. He stood ramrod straight, his hands curling into fists, his entire body trembling.

"Where did you hear that name?" he hissed, eyes burning a hole through the other man.

The man ignored him.

"You have made some powerful enemies, Harry Potter. You should not have come here."

Harry dove to the side as the cloaked man whipped a sceptre around toward him, a jet of black light shooting from the tip. Rolling back to his feet, he pulled out one of his wands, firing a Killing Curse at his assailant.

The man watched the curse sailing toward him, seemingly disinterested. In a sudden flash of movement, just before the curse reached him, the man brought his sceptre swishing through the air, batting the curse aside as easily as he would swat away a fly.

Harry stared. Never before had he seen someone deflect a Killing Curse. Whatever magic this man was using, it wasn't traditional Western magic.

Another ball of black light burst forth from the orb atop the sceptre. Harry threw up a Shield Charm, simultaneously drawing his second wand. He was barely able to duck out of the way as the spell punched straight through his shield and carried on as if the shield hadn't been there at all.

Scrambling to his feet, Harry began launching a furious tirade of hexes, jinxes and curses at his opponent. Despite his best efforts, however, the man continued to evade his attacks. The spells he didn't deflect seemed to fizzle out just before they touched him.

Harry quickly realised he was in way over his head. Since the age of twelve, there had been very few who had been able to match him in a duel. Two of them were now dead. This, however, was something he was completely unprepared for. He was starting to regret his earlier confidence.

From her vantage point high above the battle, Fleur could see that Harry was now grasping at straws. His attacks were becoming more erratic, less fluid and decreasing in pace. His opponent, however, still appeared to be completely refreshed. Indeed, he had not moved from his original position since making his appearance.

What made it worse for her, was the knowledge that she had, once again, put Harry in grave danger. And she was completely helpless. This time, Harry really was on his own.

Finally, Harry gave up on his attack. Breathing hard, his breath coming in ragged gasps, he glared at the man. It was impossible to tell, but he was sure he was smiling.

"We were informed you had considerable duelling skill, Harry Potter." the man said, his voice flat and emotionless. "Perhaps we were misinformed."

With a strangled cry, Harry pointed his wand at a large hunk of stone on the floor, intending to send it hurtling toward the man. It had barely moved three feet, however, before it was consumed in a cocoon of black fire. A moment later, the stone was nothing but a pile of dust.

The figure bowed its head.

Fleur screamed.

It was only Harry's turning toward Fleur that saved his life. As it was, he let out a scream of pain as his shoulder was rent open by another spell from the robed man in front of him. He watched Fleur fall, almost in slow motion, felt his wand drop out of his hand, the blood pouring down his arm and side, splashing against the floor.

He thrust out his good arm, catching Fleur mid-fall. He ran over to her, casting a quick healing spell over his shoulder to stem the flow of blood. He ducked under another spell, grabbed Fleur by the wrist, Summoned his fallen wand and Disapparated.

The men did not give chase. They simply stared at the space the two people had disappeared from.

"We failed."

"We did not fail." the man replied, walking over to the pool of blood, Harry's blood, on the floor. "They will be back."

He knelt down, examining the liquid. After a brief moment of silence, he waved his sceptre over the pool of blood. The blood seeped up off the floor, coalescing into a small ball. Reaching into his robes, the man pulled out a vial, catching the blood within it.

"I'm sure we will find a use for this."

-x-x-x-x-x-

Harry and Fleur reappeared outside a small, white building that seemed to be, by the geography, just outside of the Haitian capital city.

As soon as their feet hit solid ground, Fleur felt Harry sag, quickly stooping to catch him. After a moment, though, he pushed himself off of her.

"I'm fine, just a little exhausted, is all. Quick; get inside."

He pushed the door open and stepped inside, Fleur following cautiously behind him.

The inside bore a striking resemblance to the safe house Harry had hidden her family in all those years ago. The walls bore no decoration, and the furniture was sparse at best. Fleur watched as Harry lit several lamps before sinking into a chair, leaning forward, eyes closed, a slight grimace on his face.

Fleur lowered herself into the other remaining chair, watching the man carefully.

"Is this another safe house?"

"Of a kind."

Fleur kept her silence for a few moments, wondering how best to broach the topic she so wanted to discuss. Harry seemed to be in no hurry to strike up conversation, preferring to simply sit.

"Is it true? Are you really... you know, Harry Potter?"

Harry's eyes opened, but he made no other movement.

"I have not heard that name in a long time."

Fleur's hand flew to her mouth.

"But... how? Everyone thinks you're dead? How can you be here?"

"Everyone thinks I'm dead because I want them to. And it will stay that way." The threat was not said, but most definitely implied.

Fleur took a short moment to process this. Her old bodyguard, the man sitting next to her, was the most famous person in the world? She could have laughed, simply because she didn't know what else to do. Her father had been very involved with the search for Harry when he first went missing. If only he'd known, six years ago. Suddenly, all the secrecy surrounding Harry during his time with her family made sense. Her gaze flicked to his forehead, eyes searching for that famous scar. Nothing.

Harry smiled as he saw where her eyes had travelled. Wordlessly, he reached up behind his neck, fiddling with something. When he withdrew his hands, Fleur saw they were clasping the chain of a pendant she hadn't noticed before. As soon as the pendant came away from his body, she saw a small shimmer, and the lightning bolt appeared.

She stretched out one trembling hand, lightly tracing the scar. As Harry replaced the pendant, Fleur whispered, "It's really you."

Harry nodded.

"What happened? When you went missing?"

Harry looked at her, eyes boring into hers.

"You are asking for something I have not told anyone. I need to know you will not tell anyone."

Fleur swallowed.

"I swear."

Harry sent a probing tendril into Fleur's mind, seeking out her intentions. After a short but intensive search, he could find no malice in her request, simply a burning desire to understand.

He sighed.

"Very well."

-x-x-x-x-x-

_WHAM!_

_Harry let out a cry of pain as his shoulder slammed into the doorframe of his cupboard, spinning him into the cupboard. He heard another slam, and knew his uncle had locked him in again._

_He didn't cry. He was used to it. Used to the pain, from his uncle, his cousin, the kids at school. Everyone._

_Gingerly, he prodded at his shoulder. To his untrained eye, nothing appeared to be broken, but there was a rather large cut, the skin around it starting to turn purple._

_He had learnt a long time ago he could heal himself, whether it be small cuts or broken bones. He didn't know how, but he found when he really concentrated on something, he could make something happen. Heal injuries, steal things, start fires. Even teleport, if he concentrated hard enough. He didn't know what his abilities were called, but he had decided to call it magic. He had read it in a book in the school library, one of the few places he could safely hide from Dudley and his cronies._

_Screwing up his eyes, he concentrated hard on the wound in his shoulder. Slowly but surely, the blood stopped pouring, the skin began knitting itself back together again, and the bruising began to cease._

_Minutes dragged by, until finally the skin looked good as new, if only a little pink. He swayed as he released his magic, closing his eyes, feeling, as he usually did, incredibly drained and tired._

_His reprieve didn't last long, however. He could hear Dudley waddling around upstairs before crashing down the stairs. As was his custom, he stopped to jump on the step right above Harry's head._

_Normally, Harry would simply ignore this. This time, however, the coat rail above him finally gave way, falling from its position, striking him hard on the head._

_His eyes watered as his hand shot to his head, a small lump already forming. His pain soon dissipated, however, replaced by a boiling hot fury. He was sick of it, all of it. And them. His aunt, uncle and cousin. He wanted them gone._

_The next few moments happened so quickly, Harry barely had time to process them. He could feel his magic swirling within him, uncontrolled, untamed. He started to panic. Try as he might, he couldn't quell it._

_The next thing he knew, it felt like his body was being torn apart. He let out a scream, as his magic burst forth, exploding out of his cupboard, consuming the entire house in a raging inferno._

_When the inferno had finally died down, Harry found himself sitting in the middle of the wreckage of what had once been Number 4, Privet Drive. Slowly, he climbed to his feet, looking around him._

_What he felt surprised him. No fear. No remorse. Only elation. Elation at his freedom. Turning, he ran from the scene._

_The thought of what he would do next never crossed his mind._

-x-x-x-x-x-

Fleur stared at Harry, tears welling in her eyes.

"Harry, I... "

Harry waved her off.

"I don't need your sympathy."

Fleur fell silent. She considered for a moment, then stood, crossing to Harry wrapping her arms around him. What she wasn't expecting was for him to hiss in pain. She pulled away abruptly.

"What?"

"My shoulder..."

He reached up, grabbed a handful of material and ripped, tearing the fabric from his body.

The sight of his shoulder made Fleur gag.

His shoulder was encrusted with dried blood. Under that, the cut was very visible, still leaking small rivulets of blood. But the flesh around it was completely black. It didn't just look scorched; it looked almost dead.

"Well, that's not good."

Fleur stared at him, wondering how he could be so glib about what was an obviously horrific injury.

"Doesn't it hurt?"

Harry nodded.

"Like all hell."

Fleur's face hardened.

"You need to see a doctor. Immediately."

"You're right." Harry agreed, repairing the fabric over his shoulder. "But not just a doctor. I need a specialist."

"What kind of specialist?"

Harry let a small smile grace his features.

"Have you heard of the Witch Woman?"

-x-x-x-x-x-

**A/N: This is one of the chapters I've wanted to write for a long time, so hopefully it turned out okay. I may come back to it later and add to it.**


	18. VOLUME TWO - The Witch Woman

**~Chapter Five – The Witch Woman~**

The Witch Woman was something of a local legend in Port-au-Prince. An aged old woman, she lived in a small hut deep within a nearby forest. She was rarely, if ever, seen outside the seclusion of her hut, only seen by a few passing travellers, gathering plants or animals. She never ventured into the city, but had existed for longer than anyone could remember. No one knew her true name; the Muggles of Port-au-Prince had called her the Witch Woman due to the miraculous and magical nature of her healing powers. They didn't know how close they were to the truth. Many had come across her hut, but none had ever found it again once they had left.

The sun was just setting when Harry finally deemed it time to leave the safe house. He had donned a long black cloak, as seemed to be his custom, as well as two wand wrist holsters. He had then, to Fleur's surprise, given her a wrist holster and cloak as well.

"What are these for?" Fleur asked, looking at the gifts.

Harry merely shrugged.

"If you are to be travelling with me, it is best you are prepared for anything."

Fleur was once again slightly staggered at Harry's rather annoying habit of being a mind reader when she least wanted him to be. Admittedly, when she had searched him out, she had no intention of staying with him, but somewhere in the back of her mind, was the desire to do so.

"How does this work?" she asked, attaching the holster to her right wrist.

Harry shrugged his cloak away and pulled up one of his sleeves.

"Flicking your wrist activates the release mechanism." he said, demonstrating with his own. He flicked his wrist, and his wand jumped into his hand. "To sheath it, push the hilt into the holster, then give the tip of your wand a sharp flick, and it'll pop straight in."

"Seems a little time-consuming when it comes to holstering your wand." Fleur said, testing the mechanism for herself. She smiled slightly as her wand fell into her waiting hand.

Harry nodded.

"True, but you rarely need to stow your wand as quickly as you need to draw it. This holster gives you a couple more seconds at the start of a fight. And when your life's on the line, those few seconds could mean the difference between life and death."

Fleur couldn't argue with that logic. Stowing her wand as Harry had instructed, she turned her attention to the cloak.

The cloth looked rather heavy, but when Fleur picked it up, she was amazed at how light it actually felt. The material flowed through her hands like water, and small, silvery runes winked in the light.

"It's designed to be as comfortable as possible, while still ensuring the wearer's protection." Harry explained, as Fleur ran her eyes over the cloak. "The runes have been imbued with magic, but when they run out, they will start to draw on your own reserves of energy, so don't rely on it too heavily, particularly in larger fights. It will offer protection from most attacks, with the exception of the Unforgivable Curses, though you don't want to be hit with them anyway."

"You expect me to wear this?"

Harry shrugged.

"It's up to you. I have supplied you with the opportunity to protect yourself. Whether you choose to take advantage of that opportunity is up to you. I would, however, advise you wear it tonight. These parts aren't safe for a woman to wander through at night, particularly one with the allure of a Veela."

Fleur nodded, throwing the cloak around her shoulders, fastening in just underneath her chin. She reached behind her shoulders, fingers searching for the hood. Finding purchase, she gripped the hood and pulled it upwards, covering her head and hiding her face in shadow.

Harry looked her up and down appraisingly for a moment, then stepped forward, reaching out a hand and pushing a few loose strands of silvery hair back into the hood. Fleur gave an involuntary shiver as his fingers lightly grazed the side of her neck.

He strode over to the door, pulling up his own hood as he did so. Pushing it open, he looked back at Fleur.

"Let's go."

-x-x-x-x-x-

They walked in silence for what seemed like an age, the only sounds around them being the soft rustling of leaves as a light breeze swept through the trees, twings snapping and dead leaves crunching beneath their feet, and their own breathing. Fleur had lit the tip of her wand, and was constantly looking around, a horrible feeling that they were being watched, or, even worse, followed, gnawing at her. Harry had drawn one of his wands, the other arm hanging loose, ready to draw his second wand at a moment's notice. He, too, had lit the tip of his drawn wand, the light casting his face in shadow, giving him a very intimidating visage. Which, Fleur supposed, was sort of the point.

After nearly an hour of silence, Fleur finally spoke up.

"Harry?" she asked tentatively.

"Mm?" Harry replied, his eyes never leaving the path ahead of them.

"How do you know how to find this Witch Woman?"

"I came here when I was fourteen, on one of my first jobs." Harry replied, changing direction slightly. "I got pretty badly banged up. I'd heard rumours of a magical healer that lived out this way. I wandered around out here for two days before I found her. By that point, I was nearly dead."

Fleur stared at him.

"What happened?" she asked, horrorstruck, hoping that Harry would remain in this responsive mood.

"An overconfidence in my abilities and an underestimation of the mark's security, borne of youthful arrogance on my part. A lesson I learnt the hard way."

Fleur let that information sink in for a moment as she reexamined her perspective of Harry. Six years ago, he had kept his distance, exuding a cold, detached personality. Now, however, he seemed a lot more, not _relaxed_, per se, but comfortable with revealing information about himself, something Fleur had tried in vain to get him to do while he had been with her family in France.

"What happened, Harry?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, changing direction yet again.

"Six years ago, you wouldn't tell me anything about yourself, and made damn sure I didn't find out on my own." Fleur said, a slight accusatory edge to her voice as she remembered the incident with Harry's trunk. "And now - "

"Now, I am now longer in your employ." Harry stated simply.

"So, you're normally this open with everyone you meet, if you don't have a 'business arrangement' with them?" Fleur asked.

There was a long pause.

"... No."

Fleur's heart leapt slightly, the light emanating from her wand glowing brighter for a split second.

"So, why with me, then?"

Harry didn't answer. Instead, he stopped, looking around at their surroundings.

"Yes, I think we're pretty much lost by now."

Fleur's head whipped around at the declaration.

"Lost?!"

"The Witch Woman's hut is layered with enchantments to stop people finding it. Therefore, that means we have to get lost."

"Why?"

"You have to be lost to find something that can't be found. Otherwise, everyone would be able to find it."

Fleur stared at Harry in open disbelief. They were lost, with night fast falling, in a foreign country that had nearly killed them less than twelve hours ago, and Harry was stood there without a care in the world.

"So, enlighten me." Fleur said, a steely edge to her voice. "How do you propose we find this 'unfindable' place?"

Harry smiled, the light and shadows covering his face giving it a distinctly sinister look.

"Magic always leaves traces. If you know what to look for, you can find anything hidden by magic."

Fleur simply looked at Harry as he cast his eyes around, seemingly looking for something in the air around them. After a moment, he spoke.

"This way."

Fleur couldn't see anything different as they set off in the direction Harry had indicated. It was humbling that Harry was four years her junior, but so much more knowledgable about magic and its various applications.

Something rustled in the trees to their left. Fleur spun on the spot, pointing her wand in the vague direction the noise had come from.

"What is it?" Harry asked, stopping in his tracks, squinting towards the trees Fleur had her wand directed at.

"I thought I heard something."

Harry's eyes narrowed.

"Wait here." he commanded, carefully stalking forward, wand raised.

Fleur waited with bated breath as Harry disappeared from view. She felt horribly exposed on her own, and drew her cloak tighter around herself. She kept her eyes roaming around, on the lookout for anything or anyone that may wish her harm.

Another rustle. She retrained her wand back on the trees that Harry had disappeared into, adjusting her grip on her wand, a defensive spell on her lips, ready to be cast in an instant.

She let out a relieved sigh as Harry reappeared, brushing a few stray twigs from his cloak.

"Nothing there."

Fleur's brow furrowed slightly.

"I'm sure I heard something."

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but instead, he gritted his teeth, dropping to one knee, a long, low grunt of pain hissing through his teeth, gripping his injured shoulder in obvious pain.

"Harry! Are you okay?" Fleur said, rushing to his side. She tried to touch his shoulder, but Harry batted her hand away, pushing himself to his feet.

"I'll be fine, but we'd better get a move on. The pain's getting worse."

Fleur nodded.

"Okay. Which way?"

Silence.

"That way."

-x-x-x-x-x-

After another half an hour of wandering, they finally emerged into a small clearing, deep in the heart of the forest. A small hut stood on the far side of the clearing, light flickering through the windows, casting long, dancing shadows on the ground.

"The home of the Witch Woman." Harry said, looking at Fleur. "I told you we'd find it."

Fleur nodded, relief coursing through her body.

"Great. So, how do we get back?"

"We Apparate, of course." Harry said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"So why couldn't we just Apparate here?"

"The enchantments won't allow it. We can Apparate out because they are designed to keep people out, not in."

Fleur nodded. Another gust of wind passed over them, carrying a faint trace of herbs and various other scents from the hut. Behind them, the trees rustled again.

"Okay. Let's go."

They walked forward, their wands still ready, even though there was very little threat to them in this part of the forest.

When they reached the door, Harry raised his hand, wincing through the pain in his shoulder, striking his knuckles three times against the wood. There was silence for a moment, then the door swung open.

Fleur hadn't known what to expect of the Witch Woman, as Harry had not expounded on the details, but the woman in front of them looked like a witch out of a Muggle fairy tale. Small and emaciated, she walked with a stoop, long, white, wispy hair hanging loosely around her shoulders. She was draped in a large, thick shawl, and her small, beady eyes were set deeply in her head, above a long, hooked nose. When she spoke, Fleur could see she was missing many teeth.

She peered at Harry and Fleur for a long time before speaking.

"Who are you to darken my door, children?" she asked, her voice wheezy and croaky. Fleur felt a surge of anger at being called a child, being 26 years old, but bit her tongue, realising that, to this incredibly old woman, everyone was a child in her eyes.

Harry inclined his head respectfully, lowering his hood, motioning for Fleur to do the same.

"I seek your healing arts, old one."

The Witch Woman regarded him for a long time. Fleur shifted uncomfortably, while Harry stood stock still, looking the ancient woman directly in the eye.

"You may enter." the woman said, standing aside, letting Harry and Fleur in.

The inside of the hut was much closer to Fleur's expectations than she had thought. Jars of ingredients occupied pretty much every available space. Animals hung from the ceiling, obviously dead. The entire hut was one room, laid out in a manner suited to its function, rather than for comfort. As the Witch Woman closed the door, Harry moved close to Fleur.

"Stay by the window and keep an eye out for any unwanted visitors."

"I thought you said no one could find this place?"

"Can't rule out the possibility that we were followed."

Fleur swallowed, but nodded and took up position by the window closest to her, giving her a clear view of the entire clearing.

The Witch Woman shuffled across her hut to Harry, pushing him into a chair with surprising strength.

"Let me see this injury that pains you so."

Harry reached up, unclasping his cloak, letting it fall from his shoulders before removing his shirt. He twisted his body slightly, giving the Witch Woman a better view of his shoulder.

The emaciated old woman looked at his shoulder for a while, waving her hand over it, muttering to herself.

"I have not seen an injury such as this in many years." she said, as she finished her inspection.

"Is it within your power to heal?" Harry asked, his voice perfectly calm, though Fleur was sure she could feel his anxiety pouring off him.

The woman nodded.

"It is. But it will be painful."

Harry nodded.

"I thought so. Do it; I am used to pain."

The woman smiled slightly.

"We will see."

She crossed to the other side of her hut. Neither Harry or Fleur could see what she was doing, but when she returned, she was clutching a small rat in her hand.

"This is a Black Magic wound." she said, as she sat herself in front of Harry. Fleur's head span round at that, but she didn't comment, instead filing that information away for later. She could see Harry had had a similar reaction. Remembering herself, she returned her attention to the window.

"Black Magic wounds are not easy to heal." the woman continued, laying her hand over the blackened part of Harry's shoulder. "I must draw the magic out. Your body will heal itself as it would after any other injury after."

Harry nodded.

"Do it."

The Witch Woman gave a small smile, closing her eyes. When she opened them again, only the whites of her eyes were visible. She began chanting under her breath, gripping Harry's shoulder tightly.

Then the pain came. Blinding, white hot pain. Harry had been held under the Cruciatus Curse many times in his life, but that paled in comparison to the pain that wracked his body now. He ground his teeth together, slamming his fist into the table, his eyes forced closed from the pain. His shoulder began to feel like it was about to burst into flames. He didn't dare open his eyes, but hoped and prayed that it would be over soon. The Witch Woman's chanting began to increase in volume and urgency, and the pain increased with it.

Finally, Harry could no longer take it. A scream of pain tore from his lips, as an unbelievable amount of pain shot through his shoulder. Then, it was over. He slumped forward as the woman's hand left his shoulder.

Fleur rushed forward, catching Harry before he hit the floor, pushing him back into the chair.

"Harry? Can you hear me? Are you okay?"

Harry forced his eyes open.

"I thought I told you to stay by the window."

Fleur smiled. He was okay. She stood and resumed her position by the window.

Harry looked at the Witch Woman, who was now chanting again, her hands gripped tightly around the rat. As he watched, the rat began to convulse wildly. The woman dropped it on the table, watching it closely. The rat's body began to grow darker, the same blackened colour that Harry's shoulder had been. The rat's thrashing became wilder and wilder, until finally it lay down and died.

The Witch Woman nodded in satisfaction.

"It is done."

Harry looked at his shoulder. Sure enough, his skin had returned to its normal colour. All traces of the blackness gone. Gingerly, he prodded it with his finger. Nothing. No pain. He inclined his head to the Witch Woman.

"You have my thanks, wise one."

"It is nothing. Now, leave. You will be fine."

Fleur waited as Harry redressed himself. When he was done, he tapped her on the shoulder.

"We're done here. Let's go."

Fleur followed him to the door, pulling it shut behind them as the stepped out into the night.

Harry offered her his hand.

"Are you ready?"

Fleur nodded. Harry twisted on the spot, and they Disapparated.


	19. VOLUME TWO - Black Magic

**~Chapter Six – Black Magic~**

They reappeared outside the safe house moments later. Fleur barely had time to compose herself before Harry was dragging her inside. She unfastened and removed her cloak as Harry shut and locked the door after them.

Fleur sat in silence as Harry removed his own cloak, watching him carefully as he settled himself into the only other chair. A long moment of silence stretched between them, one that seemed to last an eternity.

"Do you really think those people at the temple were Black Magic practitioners?" Fleur asked.

"The Witch Woman seemed to confirm it in her assessment of my injury," Harry said, his eyes closed. "and we would be unwise to ignore her words."

Fleur swallowed. Black Magic was something that had not reached Europe except through old texts and children's stories. There was little anyone knew of Black Magic, something that gave the whole school a dark, dangerous reputation.

"What do you know of Black Magic, Fleur?" Harry asked.

"Only a little." Fleur admitted. "That was why I came here, to further my knowledge of it."

Harry nodded.

"People that practice the Black Arts are called the Disciples of the Black Arts. That is as far as my knowledge extends."

Fleur nodded, unsure of where this conversation was heading.

"The Disciples at the temple were obviously waiting for me." Harry continued. "I highly doubt whoever informed them of me will leave it there. We have to be able to defend ourselves against the Black Arts."

Fleur could only stare at him.

"Are you crazy, Harry?" she exclaimed. "You gave it everything you had at the temple, and it made no difference! You were injured, and needed specialist treatment! And now you want to go back?"

"I don't want to, but I have to." Harry said, opening his eyes and looking directly at her. "This is my world, Fleur. Kill or be killed. If you don't like it, there's the door."

Fleur sat in silence for a moment. The sensible, rational part of her mind was screaming at her to leave, to escape the world that could kill her in an instant without a second thought. But the other part of her mind told her to stay with Harry. If he died here, she knew she could never live it down, knowing she had the option to stay and help him.

She let out a sigh.

"What's your plan?"

A ghost of a smile flickered across Harry's lips.

"I know someone who lives round these parts. He's spent his whole life studying various schools of magic. If anyone know anything about Black Magic, he will."

"And what about me?" Fleur asked.

"There's a magical bookshop in the Fifth Quarter." Harry said. "Go there, and find out anything you can about the history of Black Magic. Knowledge is power, as the Muggles say."

Fleur nodded as Harry stood up.

"The guest bedroom is through there." he said, pointing at a door at the far end of the room. He turned and walked through another door, closing it behind him.

Fleur watched the door for a moment, almost hoping he'd come back out, but he didn't. Sighing, she stood up, making her way over to the door Harry had indicated.

Inside, there was a lone bed, that looked as if it had never been used. A small chest of drawers sat at the foot of the bed, and a cabinet was placed next the the bed.

Fleur removed her wand holster, placing it on the cabinet. Quickly, she stripped down to her underwear, climbing into the bed. Tomorrow, she decided, she would go back to her hotel and collect her belongings.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Fleur was woken the next morning by the sound of rain lashing against the windows. Rubbing her eyes, she rolled over to see massive droplets of water pounding against the glass.

Groaning, she pulled the covers off herself and stood up, stretching the stiffness of sleep from her limbs. Grabbing her clothes, she redressed herself and left the room.

Harry was already up, sitting in one of the chairs, a goblet in his hand. Glancing at the table, Fleur could see a bowl of cereal waiting there.

"Help yourself." Harry said, his back still to her. Fleur smiled slightly, sitting at the table and pulling the bowl toward her.

Harry didn't speak while she ate. Instead, he appeared to be deep in thought, about what, Fleur could only guess.

When she had finished, Harry stood, grabbing his cloak and tossing Fleur hers. Fleur snatched it out of the air and fastened it around her shoulders.

"Ready to go?" Fleur nodded. "Then let's go."

-x-x-x-x-x-

The man watched the pair as they left the building from his hiding spot amidst the trees. The rain was still lashing down, as it had been all night. His only saving grace was the Impervious Charm he had cast over himself, though he could still feel the weight of the rain as it fell.

He shifted his weight slightly as he watched the witch and wizard conversing, causing a twig to snap at his feet. He cursed silently as the blond witch glanced in his general direction, but appeared not to see him.

He watched them for a moment until they began down the pathway that led into Port-au-Prince. Rising, he threw his stolen Invisibility Cloak around his shoulders and followed, keeping a safe distance.

His orders were simple; get the girl. Collard would follow. All he had to do was wait for the perfect opportunity.

After following them for nearly a mile, the witch and wizard came to a crossroad. The man stopped, watching, waiting. They seemed to speak for a moment, then Collard went one way, while the witch walked the other, toward the capital.

The man watched Collard's retreating back for a moment, ensuring the young wizard was actually leaving, then hurried after his companion. The girl was walking at a terrific pace, seemingly determined to get out of the rain. The man adjusted his cloak, and followed her path.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Fleur quickly located the bookshop Harry had told her about. Dashing over, she hurriedly ducked inside, anxious to get out of the driving rain. As the door swung shut behind her, she lowered the hood of her cloak, looking around, taking in her surroundings.

The shop was fairly spacious, though every inch was crammed with shelves, holding tomes on just about every subject imaginable, making the entire place seem cramped and stifling. Fleur nodded a greeting to the shop owner as she wandered cautiously amongst the books, searching for a book on Black Magic.

She heard the door open again as she ventured deeper into the shop, but paid it little mind. She continued winding her way through the shop, eyes roaming the shelves.

Finally she found a row of books on the Black Arts, tucked away in the furthest corner. Tentatively, she reached up, running her fingers softly across the spines. She was sure she could feel a distinctly unsettling aura in this part of the shop, which seemed to be coming from the books themselves. She shook her head slightly, trying to clear it of such thoughts.

She stopped at a thick, leather-bound book. Turning her head to the side, she read the title printed along the spine.

_The Complete History of Haitian Magicks_

Fleur nodded in satisfaction. This would probably do. She wrapped her fingers around the spine, pulling it from the shelf. For a moment, the book refused to budge, as though putting up its own resistance to being removed, then it slid free.

Fleur looked around. To her right was a motley collection of chairs, all mismatched as though they had been collected off the streets. A few aisles away, a man in dark robes was perusing the shelves. As she watched him, he looked up, catching her eye. The man quickly dropped his gaze and moved away, disappearing round the corner.

Shrugging at this strange display of behaviour, Fleur carried the book over to the chairs, settling herself in one. Laying the book on her lap, she lifted the cracked leather cover and began skimming through the pages of text.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Discreetly checking around him, Harry pushed open the door in front of him, slipping into the house.

The house itself was rather nondescript. There was nothing about it that advertised its difference from those that flanked it on either side. Harry, however, knew better. Within this house resided one of the most knowledgable men on magical theory that Harry knew.

Li Chen had devoted his life to discovering the intricacies of magic and its various applications. His work had put him at odds with various scholars over the years, which had led to him spending a great deal of time on the run, finally settling down in Haiti after Harry had saved his life in Tokyo. He had promised Harry his help whenever he had need of it. Now was definitely one of those times.

Li was, as Harry had suspected, sitting in his study, surrounded by piles of parchment. Various tools for wand crafting occupied a bench pushed up against a wall. Next to it, a small table held an assortment of various liquors. Floor to ceiling bookshelves dominated the other walls. The rest of the room was bare apart from Li's desk in the centre. An orb of pure fire hung in the air, providing light to every corner of the room.

Harry looked at the orb appreciatively.

"An impressive piece of magic."

Li looked up from his parchment, a huge grin breaking out on his face as he recognised his visitor.

"Collard! It's been too long!"

Li scurried around his desk, grasping Harry's hand. Li was a diminutive man, barely reaching five feet tall. His hair was jet black, parted neatly down the middle. A small goatee adorned his chin, and his piercing blue eyes were slightly bloodshot, as though he hadn't slept for a while.

"Am I interrupting?" Harry asked, glancing at the cluttered desk.

"No, no, not at all!" Li said cheerfully, all but pushing Harry into a chair. "Can I tempt you?" he asked, gesturing to the table of bottles. Harry shook his head, smiling slightly. The Chinaman's cheery outlook was slightly infectious. He waited until Li had sat himself down before speaking.

"I need your help, Li."

Li's face became a little more serious, but only a little.

"I thought as much. You're not really one for social visits, are you? So, what can I help you with?"

Harry took a steadying breath.

"I need you to tell me everything you know about Black Magic."

Li looked at Harry in concern.

"Black Magic? What have you got yourself into this time?"

"Someone is trying to kill me, and they've struck some sort of deal with the Disciples at the temple just outside Port-au-Prince."

"And you want to fight back?" Harry nodded. Li sighed. "You're crazy."

"I know."

Li exhaled, running a hand through his hair.

"What you are asking, in effect, is how to kill the Disciples before they kill you?"

"Pretty much."

Li was silent for a long time. So long, in fact, that Harry thought he wasn't going to tell him. He was just about to broach the silence when Li spoke again.

"What you're asking is next to impossible, you do realise that?"

"But not _im_possible." Harry reasoned.

Li nodded.

"True enough, just damned difficult. Black Magic is evil incarnate. It is designed to cause maximum pain to a victim before they die."

Harry's mind briefly flashed back to his encounter in the temple, remembering the skull-splitting pain he had endured.

"I fought the Disciples recently, I can certainly attest to that."

Li stared at him, wide-eyed.

"You did? And you survived to tell the tale?!"

"Apparently so."

Li considered for a moment.

"Did you try attacking them with spells?" Harry nodded. "You were unsuccessful." It wasn't a question; it was a statement.

"Yes."

"I'm not surprised." Li said, scratching absentmindedly at his goatee. "Disciples of the Black Arts are bound to the ambient magic of the world. They cannot be hurt by 'projectile' spells. Spells you can dodge." He added at Harry's questioning look. "You have to use either the environment or 'immediate-effect' spells."

Harry laughed slightly.

"You make it sound very simple."

"If it was, we wouldn't have those Disciples camped out so close to Port-au-Prince." Li said. "You'll have to be cunning."

Silence reigned for a moment as Harry pondered his next question.

"When I first encountered the Disciples, they addressed me by name."

Li nodded.

"That makes sense. They fuse their conscience with their victims', then use what they find to throw the victim off guard. An effective approach, apparently."

"How do you know all this?" Harry asked.

Li's eyes narrowed slightly at the slight accusatory note in Harry's voice.

"My entire life has been devoted to uncovering the secrets of magic in _all_ its forms. We also have testimony of people unfortunate enough to cross the disciples. All dead now, of course."

"From what?"

"Black Magic is like a virus, and is always lethal. If you're hit by a spell, only Black Magic can save you. Otherwise, the magic spreads slowly through your body, causing a long, agonising death."

Harry's brow furrowed slightly at these words. _Only Black Magic can save you._ He pushed his rising questions to the back of his mind for the moment.

"Anything else you can tell me?" he asked.

"Only one thing." Li said apologetically. "This is a dark area of magic, one I don't wish to make more than a fleeting glance toward." He leant back in his chair. As the Disciples bound themselves to the magic of the world, they become as one with it. They cannot die of natural causes, just as magic cannot die."

Harry's eyes widened.

"When was the earliest reports of Black Magic?"

"Around 1500." Li answered. "Around the same time as the Italian Renaissance, or thereabouts."

"So the Disciples at the temple..."

"We have good reason to believe that they are the ones who brought the Black Arts into this world."


	20. VOLUME TWO - The Chase

**~Chapter Seven – The Chase~**

After nearly half an hour of searching, Fleur had finally come across what she was looking for. It was only a short section, and didn't seem necessarily helpful. However, it was all she had been able to find. She quickly scanned her eyes over the text, having no intention of buying the book.

Just as she was finishing up, a soft, muffled thump caught her attention. She looked up, placing the book on the floor. She drew her wand as she stood, carefully making her way through the shop.

As she reached the counter, she felt her eyes being drawn behind it. Tensing, she peered over the wood, examining the floor below.

The shopkeeper was lying on his back, eyes wide and staring, a look of shock on his face. One of his hands was raised in front of him, as though attempting to shield himself from the attack.

A jet of light whizzed past Fleur's ear, impacting against a shelf behind the counter, reducing it to a cloud of dust and splinters. Fleur span, bringing her wand up just in time to deflect another spell, sending it careening into a shelf of books.

Her attacker was the man she had seen lurking around the shop earlier. He grinned at her as he raised his wand again, taking careful aim. Another spell left his wand, flying towards Fleur, who whipped her wand through the air again, sending the spell back at its caster, who had to duck to avoid it.

Fleur pressed her momentary advantage, firing an Impediment Jinx, which struck the man in the chest as he stood. Not wasting any time, she rushed forward, slipping past her assailant and out the door. There was nothing she could do for the unfortunate shopkeeper, and the attacker seemed more interested in her than him anyway.

Fleur's feet pounded against the ground as she ran, sucking in as much air as she could, cloak flying out behind her. She could hear someone running after her, but didn't look back, though she was sure her jinx couldn't possibly have worn off already. Clearly, the man hadn't been working alone.

A spell struck her in the back, causing her to stumble, though the wards in her cloak flared, absorbing the spell. She pointed her wand over her shoulder, firing a Stunning Spell at her pursuer. She wasn't expecting to hit them with the spell, and therefore wasn't surprised when the footfalls behind her didn't cease.

She was approaching the entrance to the city. Spying a building nearby, she ran toward it, ducking behind the all, waiting with bated breath, chest heaving with her sudden exertion.

Her pursuer burst round the corner, still running full tilt, not registering that Fleur was pressed up against the wall. He pulled up, looking around in confusion before turning back round, at the same moment Fleur's Stunning Spell connected with his chest. The man flew backwards, smashing against a nearby wall.

Fleur left him where he lay, once again running at full sprint. She rounded a corner, ducked under a low-hanging sign and ran for the path out of the Haitian capital.

She didn't let her pace up until she was in the safety of the trees outside the city. She drew to a halt by a towering tree, looming over her. She put her hands on her knees, bent double, sucking in great lungfuls of air, heart beating in her ears.

Why were these people after her? She couldn't fathom any reason for it, apart from her association with Harry, but she was certain that no one knew about that. Certainly, there were few, if any, people that had seen the two of them together.

And then there was the half an hour she had had in the shop before she had been attacked. If they had really wanted her killed, they would have done the deed immediately. Either the first man had been waiting for backup, or he had been attempting to lull her into a false sense of security. A strategy that had very nearly succeeded.

A ball of fire streaked past her head as she stood, impacting against the tree behind her. She threw herself away from the tree as it burst into flames. She turned on the spot, wand held out in front of her, ready to defend herself, gaze searching for the source of the attack.

The forest was quiet, the silence broken only by the crackling of the flames as they licked higher behind her. A twig snapped behind her. She spun round, wand ready, eyes darting over the clearing.

Another tree burst into flames beside her. She let out a soft cry as she jumped backwards. Then another. And another. The trees were bursting into flames around her.

They were boxing her in! She turned on her heel and ran, ducking beneath a burning branch and beating a hasty exit. She could hear men cursing, followed by the sounds of several people crashing through the undergrowth.

Fleur ran between the trees, taking random turns and firing spells over her shoulder in an attempt to throw off her pursuers. Spells were flying all around her, several striking her cloak, each time the wards flared up, protecting her from harm. She made a mental note to thank Harry if she ever got away from these people.

One of her pursuers gave a shout of surprise followed by the sound of someone falling to the ground. Fleur spun round, firing a Stunning Spell at the nearest target, then set off again.

They were closing in. Through the gaps in the trees, Fleur could see several dark shapes converging on her. She skidded to a stop, wand held ready. One man obviously hadn't expected such a bold move. He carried on running past her, only to receive a Stunning Spell in the back for his trouble.

Another person, a young woman this time, drew to a halt in front of Fleur. She raised her wand, smirking at Fleur's helplessness, a spell forming on her lips.

Before she could utter a single syllable, however, a jet of blue light struck her in the side of the head, sending her sprawling to the ground. Fleur looked around, searching for her saviour within the trees, but could see no one. Not wanting to waste any more time, she began running again, the muscles in her legs screaming in protest.

Another man jumped in front of her. Fleur didn't even give him a chance to raise his wand. The man was thrown backwards by the force of her Banishing Charm, slamming against a nearby tree. Things broke. Not the tree.

There was just one man left now, judging by the single set of feet pounding the ground behind her. Fleur vaulted over a fallen log, firing a spell at her pursuer, which missed him by inches. She turned to begin running again, when a length of rope coiled around her ankle, sending her flying, her wand skittering away across the forest floor.

The man advanced, grinning, showing crooked, yellow teeth. Fleur tried to scramble backward, but the rope held her in place. He drew to a stop in front of her. Raised his wand. Fleur turned her head away, eyes screwed tightly shut.

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

-x-x-x-x-x-

Deep in the bowels of the temple, the Disciples stood in a semicircle around a softly simmering cauldron, its contents pitch black. One of the discpiles stepped forward, the vial containing Harry's blood in his hand. He removed the stopper, then hovered his hand over the cauldron, as if savouring the moment.

"With this blood, I bond my life to yours." he intoned, pouring the blood into the cauldron. The concoction bubbled, turning a deep shade of crimson. After a moment, it settled down again. The Disciple waved his sceptre over the cauldron, and a large orb of liquid rose steadily from the surface, hovering in midair.

Another Disciple walked forward, a large, jewel-encrusted chalice clutched in his hands. The first Disciple took the chalice, holding it under the orb. The liquid dropped into the chalice, filling it halfway. The disciple brought the chalice to his lips, tipped it forward, and swallowed the contents.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Fleur opened her eyes slowly, looking around.

The man who had been looming over her was lying in a crumpled heap at her feet.

"You're welcome." came a voice from behind her. The rope was severed and Fleur turned to see Harry stowing his wand. He reached out a hand, hauling her to her feet. As soon as she was stood, she wrapped her arms around Harry's neck.

"Where did you come from?"

"I saw the fire, and decided to investigate." Harry said, extricating himself from Fleur's arms. "Lucky for you I did." he said, gesturing at the man lying on the floor.

"You got that right." Fleur muttered. "My wand..."

Harry extended his hand, her wand clutched in it.

"Don't lose it again." he warned, as she took it. "I might not be there to find it next time."

"I won't." Fleur promised.

Harry glanced around them, as though considering their options.

"Did you learn anything?" he asked finally. She didn't need to ask about what.

"Only a little."

"It'll have to do. Come on, we need to get out of here."

He grabbed her hand, and Disapparated.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Back at the safe house, Harry filled Fleur in on what Li had told him. Fleur sat in silence as he explained his findings, her expression becoming increasingly grave and worried as he talked.

"And you _still_ want to fight that?" she asked, once he had finished. "Harry, it's suicidal!"

Harry shrugged.

"They clearly want me dead anyway." he said. "If you're going to go down, you may as well go down fighting."

Fleur couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"You aren't afraid to die?"

"I should have died every day since I ran away."

Fleur sat in silence for a while, letting all the information sink in.

"So, what did you learn?" Harry asked.

Fleur took a breath, and began.

"Around 1500, six people began dabbling in magic, trying to find the answer to immortality. They used an ancient voodoo ritual to summon a demon to help them. The demon taught them the secrets of Black Magic.

"For years they experimented with their powers. However, they began to get more malicious, experimenting with Muggles they kidnapped from the cities. One of them, the only woman, became disillusioned with them, before severing all contact and hiding herself from the others, who sought to kill her for her betrayal. I didn't get the chance to read any more."

Harry's eyes narrowed.

"A _woman_ abandoned them?"

"Yes." Fleur said, slightly unsure where Harry was going with this.

"A woman who can use Black Magic? Remember what I said? Only Black Magic can cure Black Magic?"

Fleur's hands flew to her mouth.

"You don't think... the Witch Woman...?"

Harry nodded.

"I think we have our Black Magic expert."


	21. VOLUME TWO - A Word of Power

**~Chapter Eight – A Word of Power~**

"So, what's our next move?"

Harry sat in silence for a moment, considering every course of action and their possible implications. Fleur remained quiet, having discovered quickly that this was the best way to encourage the young assassin to talk.

"We should attempt to find the Witch Woman." Harry said. "Even if she won't help us directly, she could have information that could help us."

"Are you sure?" Fleur asked. "If your hunch is right, and she is a Disciple, how can we be sure we can trust her?"

"Truth be told, we can't." Harry admitted. "However, if she was still in league with the other Disciples, she would have let me die, not healed me."

"You're basing that on a presumed sense of honour from someone who is practiced in the darkest kind of magic?" Fleur asked incredulously.

"I know it seems naïve," Harry said. "but what other options do we have? Take the fight straight to them? We aren't ready!"

Fleur took a deep, shuddering breath. Harry admitting that they weren't equipped to fight the Disciples had made her realise just how far in over their heads they really were. This wasn't a maniacal politician; these were dangerous people, people who would kill them without a second thought. They needed all the help they could get.

"Okay. We'll try to find her."

-x-x-x-x-x-

They set off at first light the next day. A thin veil of mist had descended over the forest, giving the trees a forbidding, ephemeral quality. The air around them was thick with moisture. Large, black clouds were closing in overhead. Rain was a certainty.

Harry and Fleur drew their cloaks tighter around themselves, doing their best to ward off the early morning chill. Harry had one of his wands drawn, his other hand twitching, ready to draw the other at a moment's notice. Fleur kept looking around, eyes raking the trees around them. After the ambush yesterday, she had no desire to repeat the experience.

Harry grabbed Fleur's arm, drawing her slightly closer to him as they descended further into the trees. Fleur glanced at him briefly, then returned her attention to the trees.

_What are you doing?!_ He mentally reprimanded himself. _Her safety is not your priority here!_

He frowned slightly. He was right. He hadn't asked her to come; she had simply followed him. She hadn't asked him to keep her safe. So why was he so worried about her safety now?

All throughout his life, Harry had ensured that any relationships he had formed with people had been completely professional. There were no emotions involved, and therefore no distractions. Everyone he came into close contact with was kept at a safe distance, the relationship terminated when they were no longer useful.

Astier was the closest Harry had come to a meaningful relationship, and even that was a very loose description. It wasn't a relationship so much as it was an agreement that offered mutual satisfaction. No emotional entanglement, no distractions.

And now, here was a girl that had wormed her way into his life. And to his enormous surprise, he didn't mind. Fleur accepted him for who he was, and didn't try to lead him away from his life. Rather, she seemed focused on ensuring he survived to the next day.

He glanced at the girl beside him. Under other circumstances, she could have quite possibly have been someone he would have considered pursuing a meaningful relationship with.

He shook his head slightly. He wasn't about to begin engaging in hypotheticals with himself. She was a good four years older than he was, and even if she wasn't, he wasn't the kind of person someone could easily form a romantic attachment to. He was too closed off, too introverted. Plus, she was the daughter of the French Minister of Magic, while he was an orphan with blood on his hands. There was no way she would go for someone like him.

Snorting lightly, he pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind. Fleur looked around at the noise.

"Are you okay?"

Harry nodded.

"I'm fine." He raised his head, extending tendrils of magic into their surroundings. "We're close."

-x-x-x-x-x-

Sure enough, a few minutes later, they emerged into the clearing that housed the Witch Woman's hut. They crossed the clearing quickly, knocking solidly on the door.

Moments later, the door swung back, revealing the old woman. Fleur didn't know if it was what they now knew about her, but the woman seemed a lot more dangerous now.

The Witch Woman's eyes narrowed as she regarded Harry.

"Back again?"

Harry nodded.

"Not for healing, but for help of a different sort."

The old woman looked at him for a long time, piercing eyes boring into his. Harry didn't wither under her gaze; rather, he looked directly back into her eyes, as though the two were engaged in a silent battle of wills.

Finally, the woman nodded, stepping back to allow them across the threshold. They entered, ducking slightly to avoid the various objects hanging from the ceiling. The Witch Woman closed the door behind them as they seated themselves in chairs around the small table. They waited in silence as the old woman joined them, not saying anything as she peered at them.

"You want to know how to fight the Disciples at the Nwa Temple." It wasn't a question.

Harry's eyes narrowed as he looked at her.

"How did you - "

"People do not visit me for the pleasure of my company." the woman interjected. "I healed you of Black Magic before. Therefore, the only logical inference is that you want revenge."

Harry smiled.

"Not quite. I want to kill them before they kill me."

The woman was silent, watching Harry's face carefully.

"You are determined, and confident in your abilities, sometimes to a fault. You are not one to ask for help."

Harry said nothing as the woman deconstructed his entire personality in front of him, sure that this was some sort of test.

"You do not speak. You agree with such an assessment?"

"It is an assessment I have long come to peace with." Harry replied, staring the woman straight in the eye.

The Witch Woman seemed pleased with this answer.

"One should not ignore their own faults, for that way lies naught but death." Silence. "I can help you, but I cannot accompany you."

Harry nodded. He had not even considered asking for her to accompany them.

"I understand."

"I have one condition under which I will offer my help."

"Name it."

The woman smiled.

"You take the offered hand quickly, but do not see that the other has been armed. Do not fall into such a habit, as it can be your undoing." She let out a small chuckle at the look on Harry's face. "My condition is this: should you remove the Disciples from this world, I ask that you return to remove me from it also."

"You want me to kill you?" Harry asked, not sure he had understood properly.

"I do."

"Why?" Fleur asked. The Witch Woman fixed her with her piercing stare. Fleur held her gaze for a few moments, before finally succumbing, squirming slightly under her beady eyes.

"Black Magic is not natural magic. It should never have been brought into this world. When the Disciples of Nwa Temple have been disposed of, and then myself, the secrets of Black Magic will be lost forever."

Fleur looked at the old woman before her with a renewed respect. What she was proposing was one of the most selfless acts she had ever seen.

"I have lived a long time, far beyond my years." the woman continued. "I have no regrets."

Fleur glanced at Harry, who seemed to be undergoing a powerful internal conflict.

"If I refuse..."

"Then you will surely die at their hands, and eventually another will come along who will wish to rid the world of this evil that should never have blighted it." The woman fixed Harry with another piercing stare. "I have time, as you are no doubt aware."

Harry remained quiet for a long time, running through every possible scenario in his head. He had killed before, many times, but he had never killed someone simply because they had asked him to. On the other hand, they needed what the Witch Woman was offering. He had little choice, it seemed.

"Fine, I accept your offer."

Fleur gave him a strange look at the tone of his voice. The Witch Woman simply smiled.

"Excellent. Listen closely, I will not repeat myself.

"A large part of the school of Black Magic is the summoning and control of demons." the Witch Woman started. "You must not allow them to summon a demon, for you will surely die if they do."

"How do I stop them?"

"A summoning requires the utmost concentration. You must not allow them the opportunity to begin. If they do, you must break their concentration. I understand explosions are good for that kind of thing, yes?" Harry nodded, smiling grimly.

The Witch Woman got up, shuffling across the hut, rummaging in a drawer, her back to her two guests. When she returned, she held two bracelets clutched in her bony hand.

"You must wear these, for they will protect you from most attacks." she said, passing them to Harry and Fleur, who took them, sliding them onto their wrists, watching as the band glowed briefly, before returning to the dull silver they had been originally.

"You must be careful with them," the old woman explained, as Harry and Fleur inspected the jewellery. "for they have only a limited amount of power. After they run out, they will no longer protect you. You will have to be quick, and avoid being hit if at all possible.

"I have one last thing to give you."

"What is it?" Harry asked, a certain amount of trepidation in his voice.

"A word of power. A spell."

Fleur's head whipped round, sure she hadn't heard correctly. Harry frowned.

"What kind of spell?" he asked. "I will not partake in any form of Black Magic."

The Witch Woman shook her head.

"It is not Black Magic. When the Disciples and I were first testing the limits, we came across a spell, one that causes instantaneous death. It is unavoidable. Oh, I know you Europeans like to think that your _Avada Kedavra_ is unavoidable," she said, as Harry opened his mouth, cutting across him. "but it is still limited by physical barriers. This spell cannot be dodged or blocked."

She passed a small piece of parchment to Harry.

"Do not let others see this. It is not something I would divulge lightly."

Harry nodded as he pocketed the parchment for inspection later.

"I have given you all I can. The rest is up to you." She got up, making her way across the hut, opening the door. Harry and Fleur took this as their cue to leave. As they crossed the threshold again, Harry turned back to the Witch Woman.

"Thank you. I will not forget your conditions."

The Witch Woman nodded.

"Be sure that you do not."

The door closed, leaving them standing in the clearing. Fleur took a breath before turning to Harry.

"So, what's this spell?"

Harry reached into his pocket, withdrawing the parchment. Unfolding it, he moved it so that Fleur could see it.

Written on the parchment was one word, written in neat, careful calligraphy.

_Mouri_

Fleur looked at the word, then at Harry, whose eyes had hardened. He crumpled the parchment, returning it to his pocket.

"What now?"

"Now, we form a plan." He reached out, grabbed her hand, twisted on the spot and Apparated back to the safe house.

As soon as they reappeared, Harry could tell something was wrong. The forest was too quiet. He looked around, one of his wands jumping into his hand. As he looked around, he saw Fleur release her wand out of the corner of his eye. Clearly, she had noticed too.

A shout nearby caught their attention. They spun toward the source, just in time to see a golden jet of light shoot into the air, exploding out into a dome, roughly five miles in diameter.

_Anti-Apparition Charm,_ Harry thought. He returned his attention back to the trees around them.

"We're not alone here." Harry muttered to Fleur, eyes scanning the trees. "Keep your guard up."

Moments later, the trees around them began rustling. As they watched, people began emerging from the undergrowth, all of them brandishing wands, all pointed in their direction. They began circling the pair, drawing closer, fencing them in, about twenty, all told.

They sneered, clearly believing they had them trapped.

"You two have been causing a lot of problems recently." one man said, clearly the leader of the group. His voice was thick with a Spanish accent.

"Sorry about that."

The man smirked.

"I suggest you come with us."

Harry smiled at the man.

"We'd rather not, thanks."

The man's eyes narrowed.

"Then it appears we've reached an impasse."

The group raised their wands.

"It appears so." Harry said.

Fleur tensed.

Harry drew his other wand.

"Let's dance."


	22. VOLUME TWO - A War on Two Fronts

**~Chapter Nine – A War on Two Fronts~**

Fleur had never been in a more terrifying situation in her life. The closest she could think of had been when she and her family had been taken captive by Devereaux's soldiers six years previously. At the time, and in retrospect, that had been a harrowing ordeal, being completely at the mercy of another, not knowing if you would live or die. Compared to this, though, that had felt safe and secure.

Fleur had not been involved in large scale combat before. She quickly realised she was well out of her depth. Almost from the outset, she had been forced on the defensive. Spells were flying in every direction, forcing Fleur to move quickly to avoid being hit by several vicious-looking curses, if their colours were any indication.

Harry looked as natural as ever, ducking and weaving through the stream of spells with a practiced ease, firing spells of his own back. It was all Fleur could do to try not to impede him too much.

Fleur spun as she dodged yet another curse, whipping her wand up, firing a Stunning spell. She didn't have time to admire her handiwork as one of the attackers fell to her spell, clearly not expecting such a sudden attack.

She heard Harry shout something, lost in the din of battle. A man several feet way crumpled to the floor and didn't move again.

A spell collided hard with Fleur's back. Her cloak absorbed the spell, but the force of the impact sent her sprawling to the ground. She rolled over as quickly as she could, her legs becoming entangled in her cloak as she did so.

A woman stalked forward toward her, wand outstretched, a feral grin on her face. Fleur raised her own wand, ready to defend herself.

She needn't have bothered. When the woman was three feet from her, a long, thin branch shot down from a nearby tree. As Fleur watched, the branch wrapped itself around the unsuspecting woman's neck before yanking her off the ground, leaving her dangling from the tree by her neck some ten feet off the ground.

Fleur scrambled to her feet, having finally tamed her cloak. She risked a glance at Harry as she fired off another couple of Stunnng Spells. Her companion was several feet away, duelling four men at once.

Fleur loosed a Disarming Charm at her nearest opponent, then turned, running to Harry's aid. One of the men turned his head to look at her, and Harry took the opportunity afforded by the man's momentary lapse in concentration to send him flying away, impacting solidly against a tree. Fleur hit another of Harry's opponents with an Incarcerous Charm, sending him toppling to the floor.

A ball of fire whizzed past Fleur's ear, so close she felt the wispy hairs around her ears burn away. She turned to face her attacker, noting as she did so the decidedly small number of people still attacking them. Fewer than half a dozen.

Duelling someone one on one was certainly easier than aiming randomly. Fleur was able to concentrate fully on her opponent, safe in the knowledge that her cloak would protect her from most attacks. The one thing she noticed, however, was the lack of lethal spells being fired at Harry and herself. It was as if these people didn't want to kill them.

Buoyed by this knowledge, Fleur stepped up her attacks, forcing her opponent on the defensive for the first time since the skirmish had broken out.

This still wasn't enough, however. Despite her best efforts, the woman in front of her matched her with ease, blocking her every attack. It was infuriating, but Fleur did her best not to get frustrated. She knew if she got frustrated, she would make mistakes, mistakes she couldn't afford to make in this situation.

Fleur ducked as a curse shot directly at her face. There was a muffled thump behind her. She looked behind her to see a man on the ground, clutching his face, blood pouring from his eyes.

Fleur scrambled away in horror, barely avoiding another attack. She fired a Stunning Spell as she straightened up, trying to disrupt the woman's flow of spells.

In the back of her mind, Fleur heard Harry's voice, repeating words he had said to her earlier.

"_Spells you learn in school will only help you so far in a real combat situation. Sometimes, you have to think outside the box._"

Fleur glanced over at Harry as she deflected yet another attack, still locked in a deadly dance with his opponents, the only other people not dead or incapacitated yet. What would he do?

Fleur smiled slightly as a thought came to her. It wasn't what Harry would do, per se, but it would certainly be unexpected.

Deflecting a bright orange spell, Fleur suddenly charged forward. Her opponent's eyes went wide as saucers at this sudden change in tactic. She raised her wand, firing spells randomly, but she was flustered, her spells flying well wide of her intended target.

Fleur switched her wand to her left hand as she reached the other woman. Bringing her right hand around, she knocked the woman's wand hand away from her. Using her momentum, Fleur allowed her body to follow her hand, spinning on the ball of her right foot. As she neared the end of her revolution, she lashed out with her left foot, burying her foot in the woman's abdomen.

The woman staggered backwards, bent double, the air forcibly ejected from her lungs. Fleur gave her no reprieve. Raising her wand, she swiftly Disarmed the woman, then hit her with a Knockback Jinx at point blank range, sending her careening between the trees and out of sight.

Fleur looked over at Harry, who was smiling at her, nodding in approval, all the while fending off the two men in front of him.

Fleur ran towards them, raising her wand.

"_Petrificus Totalus!_"

One of the men gave a cry of surprise as his comrade's arms and legs snapped together, causing him to fall to the floor. Harry took advantage of the man's distraction to disarm him, then surged forward, wrapping one arm around the man's torso, placing his right leg behind the man's legs, tripping him and forcing him to the floor. Harry pinned him there with a knee placed firmly on the man's chest, directing one of his wands between the man's eyes, the other sliding back into it's holster.

"Who sent you?" Harry growled as Fleur arrived at his side, a light sheen of perspiration coating her skin.

The man didn't reply. He squirmed underneath Harry, trying to dislodge the young man, his eyes darting around wildly, as if searching for an escape route. Harry increased the pressure from his knee on the man's chest.

"Who sent you?" Harry asked again, moving his wand closer to the man's skin. "Tell me! NOW!"

Inexplicably, the man began to laugh, a low, wheezing sound, impeded somewhat by Harry's knee.

"You really have no idea?" he asked, his wild eyes staring into Harry's. He began to laugh again. "Stupid boy. You should have just come quietly. It would have been so much easier."

"Come quietly?" Harry asked incredulously. "You were trying to kill us not moments ago!"

"Were we?" The mirth had left the man's eyes now. "Did we ever cast any spell that would have been fatal to you?"

"Your people cast several at her!" Harry said, jerking his head at Fleur.

"She is expendable."

Harry's fist crashed into the man's nose. The was the unmistakable sound of the man's nose breaking. Blood started to flow.

Fleur's stomach clenched slightly at this. She forced her rising emotions down, her head and heart now locked in debate. Her heart felt lifted at Harry's defence of her, but her head attempted to rationalise this as Harry simply losing his cool, becoming impatient with the man.

"If you weren't trying to kill me, then what were you doing?" Harry asked.

"You have something we want."

Harry's wand was just milimetres from the man's skin.

"What?"

The man sighed.

"It doesn't matter now."

Harry's eyes burned. He gripped his wand tightly. Sparks flew from the tip, igniting the man's eyebrows. The man screamed in pain until the small flames extinguished themselves.

"Tell me!"

The man seemed to be considering arguing, but Harry applied more pressure to his chest, cutting off any further thought.

"If you don't tell me," Harry said, doing his best to keep his breathing even. "I will simply force my way into your mind, find what I need, then destroy your mind from the inside." The man's eyes widened. "So, are you going to co-operate?"

"Fine!" the man said quickly, genuine fear in his eyes. "Go to the Magical Quarter in Port-au-Prince. Seek out a man named Jiminez. He's the one who sent us." The man closed his eyes briefly, then opened them. "You've killed a lot of his people. He only wanted to talk, but I wouldn't be so sure now."

"What do you mean, 'he only wanted to talk'?" Harry asked.

The man sighed sadly.

"He is not your enemy. _Was_ not. I can't be so sure now." He looked up at Harry. "Can I go?"

Fleur looked at Harry, who seemed to be conflicted. She was pretty sure she knew what his answer would be. She braced herself.

"I find it hard to trust someone I was just duelling." Harry said. "You're a liability at the moment. I can't let you live."

"No! Please!"

Harry adjusted his grip on his wand.

"_Mouri!_"

Fleur watched as the lights disappeared almost immediately from the man's eyes. His whole body went limp.

Harry leant forward, swiping his hand over the man's face, closing his eyes.

"Consider this a mercy."

He stood, looking at Fleur.

"Come on, let's go."

He lead her into the safe house. As soon as they were inside and the door had closed, Harry let himself fall into one of the chairs.

Fleur sank into the chair opposite him, watching him intently.

They sat in silence for a long time. Fleur simply watched Harry, not wanting to force him to talk.

After what seemed like hours, Harry finally spoke.

"We're going into Port-au-Prince tomorrow."

"You believe him?" Fleur asked. Harry shrugged.

"We're fighting a war on two fronts here, Fleur." he said, rubbing his cheek. "We're in way over our heads. One of these sides has to be settled quickly, and looking at the options, this seems the easiest."

An image of the Black Temple flashed in Fleur's mind, and she nodded. Inside, her resolve was starting to shake. Harry had always seemed so confident, so sure of himself. For him to sit here now, admitting in not as many words that he was unsure he could pull this one off was like a knife through her spirit. Since they had been reunited, she had looked to him for strength, to reassure herself that they would get out of this alive. Now, she wasn't so sure.

Standing up, she crossed to Harry's chair, perching herself on it and wrapped her arms around Harry, as much to comfort herself as much as him. Harry didn't protest, simply allowing the contact between them.

Harry pushed his rising emotions down, doing his best to ignore Fleur's body pressed against his and the feelings they incited. He couldn't afford to get personally attached, not now. There would be time for emotion later.

Provided, of course, that there would be a later at all.


End file.
